


o t h e r s i d e

by steelandtemper



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (AU within an AU), (strangers with an asterisk), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon Ben gets thrown into our world, Dimension Travel, Drama & Romance, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Happy Ending, Initial Finn/Rey, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Minor Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, POV Alternating, Pining, Redeemed Ben Solo, Redemption, Secrets, Strangers to Lovers, all details/history from the galaxy far far away remain canon, but no reylo kids or pregnancy, in order to save her life on Exegol, long chapters, rating may change; if it does i'll make it known!, there are characters who are school-aged children, very liberal interpretation of the World Between Worlds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 75,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelandtemper/pseuds/steelandtemper
Summary: After failing to revive Rey on Exegol, Ben begs the Jedi of the past for a way to save her. He's gifted one final chance: spending one month in an alternate world to try to convince the alternate version of Rey to come home.or: Ben is sent to Earth to bring Rey back to the galaxy far, far away.[Canon/Modern AU crossover  |  premise inspired by Orpheus & Eurydice]
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 88
Kudos: 60





	1. i'm on my way

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: the premise of this story was inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice, but the story itself is not any kind of a retelling xx

Cold, blinding pain. Everywhere.

He’s landed on his stomach on a jagged outcropping in the pit, his cheek biting into rough stone. Lightning flashes above, out of focus.

Ben barely managed to soften his fall enough to survive it. He’s sure his ankle is broken— feels like some ribs, too. His ears are ringing. His vision is spotted, even in the near pitch black. He can’t _think._

But that’s when he feels her regain consciousness, and the static in his head quiets. 

The strain to sense what’s happening above drowns out the pain. While he can’t physically hear whatever is going on, he can listen for her reactions through the Force if he tries hard enough. 

She’s weak. That’s all he can get.

He’s too far away. He needs to get back to her, but he can barely move. And even if he could, he won’t make it in time. He’s faced with the sheer drop of a cliff— an almost perfectly vertical climb. He tries to think around it but his thoughts keep dropping out of his head as he’s having them. The throbbing in his skull probably has something to do with that. He tries harder, frustration screaming through his veins. 

And then he stops, because he hears them— he hears the voices.

The Jedi. 

The far-away whispers build and overlap; he only catches about half of it, but he gets their meaning clear enough. One word above the rest pushes through again and again. 

_Rise._

_Rise._

_Rise._

The words are not for him. Ben knows that. He’s merely overhearing them through the echo of his and Rey’s bond— the Jedi before him, including his own family, have never deemed him worthy of such attention before. It’s no great shock that they would continue that now.

Ever since the Emperor revealed _he_ was speaking to Ben all that time and not his grandfather, Ben has wondered if anyone had _ever_ heard him over the years. He’d wondered whether anyone saw what was happening to him at all, whether anyone ever heard his pleas, whether they were even able to. And now he knows. 

He knows now. They could hear him that whole time, they just never answered. They could’ve helped him at any point, they just didn’t. 

And Ben… 

Ben doesn’t _care_ anymore. 

He’s beyond caring about that, beyond being hurt by it. He used to be practically willing to die for that kind of validation, but it has truly never mattered less to him in his life than it does right now. He has something that matters more.

If anything, it’s _freeing._

Ben finally has his definitive answer— he knows once and for all that his grandfather and the rest never cared about him and never will. It’s confirmed that no one living or dead ever cared about him, not in the way he needed them to.

No one, of course, except for Rey. 

Rey.

The exception to everything.

She’s the only one he has any loyalty to now, the only one whose judgement matters, the only one who’s worthy of the reverence he misplaced in false idols his whole life.

He chooses her now. Apparently so have the Jedi.

So, no— no, their words of encouragement are not meant for him. They were never going to be. But Ben listens anyway. 

He rises.

Not for them. Not for their broken religious order, not to win the war they couldn’t, not to redeem any family name. 

He does it for her— for Rey, who he can’t let face this alone. He can’t let the man who took everything from him take everything from her, too. He refuses to have come this far only to lose her. 

Ben painfully pushes himself to his feet, finds a foothold in the pit wall, and starts climbing.

It hurts, but he tunes it out with adrenaline and focus. He gets into a rhythm, thinking only of where to put his hands and feet next. Again. And again. And again.

He registers at some point that the weakness he sensed in her before is gone. Her heartbeat is pounding. She feels strong but unstable at the same time— like how dying stars burn brighter just before they implode. He climbs faster and less carefully, ignoring the pain.

The cavernous chamber above lights up then with the frantic glow of white lightning. It’s going haywire. It hurts his eyes at first, it’s so bright. He feels a massive spark in his chest, and he knows whatever is happening is bad. Way bad— the Force is rippling violently in every direction. He keeps scaling as steadily as he can but his hands start to shake, slowing him down. He just needs to get to her, he needs to—

Then the lightning stops. 

The throne room goes dark again. The entire citadel starts to shake. Ben holds tight as large pieces of debris shake loose from the walls and ceiling, shooting past him down the pit.

He feels their bond flicker— weaken.

_No._

He’s getting close to the top now, but still not close enough. He keeps going. The structure continues to fall apart above and around him. Rey feels further and further away with every passing second. 

The rate at which she’s drifting isn’t stopping or slowing down and it’s scaring him.

The part of her that he keeps inside him, the one he’s lived with since he was ten years old, the one he didn’t fully recognize until last year— it’s fading. It’s getting smaller and lighter and dimmer until… until suddenly Ben can’t feel it at all.

_No._

It happens so quickly and quietly that he doesn’t believe it at first, but when he reaches out…he feels nothing on the other end of their bond. Not even a coldness or an emptiness or a sudden block. Just… nothing. Nothing at all.

Ben bites down hard, shoves it out of his mind, and doesn’t stop climbing. Not now, he can’t stop now. He focuses harder than ever, finally cresting the ledge with trembling arms. 

He scans the throne room. He spots her alone, crumpled on the floor near the empty stone-petaled throne. She’s not moving. 

_No. No. No._

Hysteria rises in Ben’s chest but he pushes it down. It’s not over. It’s not. He just needs to get over there.

He manages to stand, limping across half the distance before faltering and falling to his hands and knees. He’s injured, off-balance, disoriented, and in excruciating pain— but he doesn’t stop. He pauses for only a moment, then finds his way back to his feet. It takes almost everything he has just to do it.

Once he reaches her, he lets himself fall back down to the ground beside her. He freezes for a heartbeat when he sees her open, unfocused eyes. Pushing past the horror of it, he shuffles closer to her. His movements are awkward from his injuries, but he manages.

Determined to keep it together, Ben gathers her limp body in his arms and rolls both of them into a position where he can hold her properly in his lap.

Then he really looks at her— and his determination dissolves.

Her face, once bright and full of warmth and color, is flat and ashen. Her body isn’t as warm as it should be. The worst part is her eyes— they look the same, but the person behind them isn’t there anymore. She’s not there.

This can’t be. She can’t be. He tears his eyes away, looking around the disintegrating cathedral. But, of course, no one’s here to help him. No one’s here to tell him what to do. No one else is here to fix this. 

He turns back to her. 

_What do I do?_ he sends desperately through the disconnected frequency that she should be on the other end of. No answer. He’s shaking. He hears the memory of her voice as a child, left scared and alone on a wasteland of a planet— the moment the seed was planted that she was unloved. 

_Come back._

Gingerly, he brings her in close to his chest. She was never unloved. He would tell her now if he could. He would tell her so many things.

They’d only just found each other— _really_ found each other. Ben wasted years and years of his life fighting and suffering over things that didn’t matter, but this is the only thing, he realizes now, that ever truly did. 

Rey _saved_ the galaxy. She’s the strongest person he’s ever known— the kindest, too. She doesn’t deserve this. She’s the last person who could ever deserve this. If anyone did, it’s him— and he would trade his life for hers if he could. He would give it to her in a heartbeat.

Maybe… maybe he can. That’s when he realizes what he needs to do.

He holds her close for another long moment, knowing no matter what that it’ll be the first, last, and only time he ever will.

Letting go isn’t easy, but the choice of what to do next is. He’s not unsure, not hesitant— it’s the simplest decision he’s ever made. She showed him how to do this, after all. It feels right.

He lets her fall away from his chest. One of his hands stays behind her head and neck, supporting it, while the other settles gently over her abdomen. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, clearing his thoughts.

Ben draws from the deep calm in his decision, the clarity in his conviction, and the memory of the way Rey healed him on the Death Star. He remembers how it felt— the push and pull of the Force between them. He’d never seen anything like it before, but he understood it through her as she did it.

He calls on the Force, letting it use him as a conduit to channel his life force into her the way she did for him. He knows it’ll take all of him, but he isn’t afraid to die. Not as long as she lives.

It flows.

Ben has a few seconds of total peace in his meditative state before he realizes something is very wrong.

The process is working, but only to a point— he’s channeling out his life force successfully, but it’s not flowing into her the way it needs to. She’s like a wall, and his energy is just hitting it and spilling away. Ben concentrates harder, but nothing he does opens that door, unlocks that valve. He’s getting weaker and weaker but Rey remains the same, only growing colder in his arms. 

When Rey healed him, he was in the process of dying but not dead. _No power in the universe can bring back the dead,_ Luke had taught him all those years ago.

Ben stops and slumps over her, letting out a sob-like yell of frustration. This was all he had. This was the only way he possibly could’ve saved her.

“No,” he whispers, face inches from hers. He watches it desperately. She’s so young. Too young. It kills him how lovely she is, even in… in… He can’t even think the word.

This isn’t fair. Rey gave everything to save this galaxy and in the end she did it _alone._ He wasn’t by her side when it mattered the absolute most. He wasn’t with her at the end. All she had were some dead Jedi encouraging her to die for the world that _they_ ultimately let get to this point.

They used her. She served her purpose for them, and then they just let her die. And now they’re nowhere to be found.

Ben’s face tilts up, suddenly awake.

“Hey!” his voice tears out, directed straight up at the stars. He sits up straight again, using the Force to call out the way he was taught so long ago. He’s not asking them to ‘be with him’ anymore— he’s demanding. _“Hey!”_

Star Destroyers above are literally falling from the sky above. The entire citadel is falling apart, but Ben isn’t leaving. He’s not leaving until they show their faces and take responsibility for what they did— until they _help_ her.

“I know you can hear me! I know you’re listening!” 

He glances back down at Rey and starts to shake. He’s used to being angry— he has been his whole life. But this is different. This rage and desperation practically possesses him. It contains the force of a thousands suns. It is something else entirely. 

“I know you. You’ve ignored me my entire life,” his voice echoes sharply throughout the chamber. “You ignored her, too, until it was time to ask her to die. To sacrifice herself for the galaxy _you_ failed.”

Angry, unshed tears sting his eyes.

“You stayed silent until it suited you.”

Ben can’t help it— it just starts pouring out of him, his words fast and coarse. 

“You stayed silent while the Emperor manipulated me from birth, while he tricked me into thinking _you_ cared, grandfather,” he spits, knowing he must be listening, “while I was isolated and driven to the dark over crimes I didn’t commit, while I begged over and over for guidance— for any reason to rejoin the light. _Any._ At any point you could’ve interfered, even with just a simple word to me, and it would have swung the tide of the entire war. But no.”

He pauses to look upon her lifeless face.

“No, you chose this. You chose Rey. You chose to let her struggle just long enough to pay for your mistakes at the right time, didn’t you?” He swallows, enunciating his next words perfectly. He looks back up to the sky. _“Shame_ on you. Shame on all of you. You’re not keepers of justice or peace. You’re not enlightened. You’re just selfish, out-of-touch hypocrites, living on only to play gods when you feel like it.”

Ben screws his eyes shut, bracing for the words. 

“And— and now she's gone. You _killed_ her. You did this.” 

They just let the brightest light in the galaxy give her life for their failures— no, they pushed her to do it. They had no right. She’s better than all of them, and yet here she is. Dead for the sins of men she never knew, lost forever to a war she had no true hand in. Her future, gone. The light, extinguished. This world, stripped of all meaning.He takes a shuddering inhale. 

“You owe her— so show yourself. Show yourself now and _help_ her. Save her.” His voice hitches at the end. “Please.”

He sounds so broken to his own ears that, after a while, he drops his head down onto Rey’s shoulder. Why can’t she just wake up? He would do anything. _Wake up. Please, Rey, just wake up now._

The silence in the absence of her heartbeat is terrible— there’s only the loud noises of the cathedral disintegrating around them that remain. He’ll die waiting right here if he has to. He’s not leaving her.

“Ben.”

Ben looks up so quickly it hurts his neck. Someone heard him— someone actually came. 

“Luke,” he breathes.

It’s his uncle alright, but now slightly translucent and with a gentle blue glow. It’s just him, no one else. He’s wearing his Jedi robes, his hair and beard trimmed neatly. It’s with obvious sadness that he looks upon them.

“You have to help her,” Ben rasps intently, his voice hoarse from screaming at the sky. He doesn’t stop to think about their animosity from before. This isn’t about that; that doesn’t matter anymore. Luke was his uncle once— he can help. “There has to be a way. Any way.”

Luke frowns, thinking. He looks cautious in answering.

“Ben… I heard you, and I want you to know— the temple. I know what happened.”

“It’s fine,” Ben interrupts. No time for tepid apologies. “Is there a way to save Rey? Can you help her?”

Luke looks between the two of them and hesitates. 

Ben recognizes that look. 

“There _is,”_ he realizes quietly. He’s spent more than enough time with his uncle in his youth to see it.

“No, Ben. I’m sorry. I just— I heard you, and I needed to tell you that I realize now that—”

“That you ruined my life? That trying to kill me in my sleep and blaming me for the murder of your students drove me to the dark in the first place? Is that it? Is that what you realize now?”

Luke looks away, down at his folded hands. His silence speaks volumes.

Finally he answers. “That I failed you more than I realized, yes.”

“You owe me,” Ben says slowly in a low voice, grabbing hold of that guilt. Twisting it. “You owe _her._ You know that. I know you know it. And I know you know something. So _tell_ me. Please.”

Luke’s ghost kneels opposite Ben, looking at the limp girl in his arms with a troubled expression. He knew Rey, too. He failed her in his own way. She begged for guidance on Ahch-To and he cruelly withheld it.

Ben watches his uncle watch Rey with an unyielding stare, trying to make him understand by sheer force of will. To make him _help_.

Finally, Luke swears under his breath. He looks away from her, then subtly glances around the room.

“There’s no power in the universe can bring back the dead,” he says weakly. “I taught you that.” 

“But?” Ben prompts desperately.

“But… power isn’t everything.” Luke closes his eyes and takes a deep breath as though he were preparing for a plunge. “You get one month.”

“What?” Ben says immediately. “No, I have to help her now.”

“No, Ben— listen carefully.”

Ben blinks in confusion, holding tighter to Rey. Luke is his only hope now, so he listens.

“Thirty-five days exactly. She has to come back willingly— she has to choose it. You return with or without her at the end.”

“Hold on, what—”

“I can’t tell you any more. I’m sorry. Just— just repeat it back to me so I know you understand.”

“What are you—?”

Luke’s eyes fly open, focused and urgent. He glances up to the sky, as though nervous about being overheard. “Just repeat it, Ben.”

“I— I get a month,” Ben tries, still uncomprehending. Luke nods. “She has to come back… willingly?”

Luke nods again. His brows creases, his voice softens.

“You have to know— I regret… so much. You’re not innocent. Not by a long shot. But… but you never belonged to the dark completely. Even after everything.” He shakes his head slightly like he still can’t quite believe it. “It’s incredible. The light never left you.” A small, sad smile tints his lips. “It’s why you’ve suffered all this time. I see that now.” His eyes linger on Ben’s face, then slide to Rey’s. “She did a brave thing. As did you. And she deserved much more… as did you.” 

Luke stands then and Ben’s heart jumps, terrified that he’s just going to leave. But he doesn't— he stays standing right where he is and smiles. There's a grim determination behind it.

“The Force moves in mysterious ways, kid. This is all I can offer. I hope… I hope it'll begin to make things right.”

One second Ben is staring up at Luke in awe and confusion, and the next— 

The next, everything is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic vibe: "Otherside" by Perfume Genius [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DD6GnitHHRA)  
> chapter vibe: "My Tears Are Becoming a Sea" by M83 [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uE8EhJ9gS28)  
> 35 days = 1 month in galactic standard ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	2. hand over hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1.

Everything.

All of it— Luke is gone. Rey is gone. The cathedral is gone. 

He’s not even on Exegol anymore.

Wherever he is, the sun is blinding him. It’s just rising over the horizon— a horizon of ocean. He’s sitting in cold sand, wearing clothes that aren’t his. His injuries have all somehow healed instantaneously, allowing him to jump to his feet without pain.

Once his eyes adjust to the light, he starts processing.

He’s on a small beach. There are a few other people in the distance. Behind him are rows of buildings, and behind them, taller buildings in the distance. A city. He isn’t able to identify the place on sight, but he can try to guess from what he can observe.

Single-sun solar system, from the looks of it. No observable planets or moons above. Certainly nowhere in Exegol’s system. The civilization doesn’t look primitive, per se, but not particularly technologically advanced, either. It’s comprised of both ocean and landmass. No hint of any ships in the sky. He’s only seen other humans so far. It looks too affluent and organized to be some random lawless planet in the Outer Rim, so what gives? It’s developed enough to where he should know where this is, but he has no idea.

Is he dreaming? Is he in some deep induced meditation from Luke?

…Luke.

_Rey._

Ben’s stomach drops. He left Rey behind by coming here. She isn’t anywhere to be seen. He was the only one left on Exegol to save her and now he’s _abandoned_ her. Anger and panic bubbles up in his chest.

_Breathe,_ he tells himself before he starts beating the ground with his fists or something. Luke indicated that he was going to help, didn’t he? Ben has to trust in that. It’s the only explanation for this insanity. What did he say? That Ben has a month and that… and that she has to ‘come back willingly.’

It doesn’t make any sense, but the verbiage is clear— Rey is here, somehow. Alive. She’s here and Ben is meant to bring her back. 

But back from where? Where are they?

Ben spots a man walking along a path that separates the sand from the streets. He jogs up to him.

“Excuse me. Where are we?” Ben asks, straight to the point. Hopefully the guy can understand him.

The man stops, and the leashed dog at his feet curiously sniffs Ben’s shoes. It’s small and vermin-like, but Ben doesn’t kick it away like instinct wants him to. It’s clearly a pet and its owner would probably not appreciate that.

“Uh— L Street?”

Ben blinks, trying to remember if that means anything to him.

“The Harborwalk?” the man tries again. “No? Here—where are you trying to go? I can try to give you directions.”

“No no no,” Ben waves impatiently. “What planet is this? What system?”

The man’s expression changes slowly. “Oh. Sorry, I… I don’t think I can help you.” 

With that, he quickly turns and continues down the path, dragging his gross pet along at a very brisk pace.

Ben just blinks after him. What did he say?

He glances back up at the sky. Granted it’s light out, but he still can’t see any sign of ships or stations above. That by itself really isn’t particularly strange or anything, but it would make him feel a lot better to see some clue up there. 

_Rey,_ he reminds himself. That’s why he’s here— to find and save Rey. Ben takes a deep breath and reaches for the Force… 

And finds nothing there. 

_Nothing._

It makes his blood run cold. He’s _never_ been unable to tap into the Force before. He’s never been without it. He tries again. And again. But it’s no use— either he can’t reach it for some unfathomable reason… or it’s just not there.

He can’t believe it. The Force is everywhere— it’s in everything. It’s a fact of life. It _is_ life. So why can’t he feel it? Where did it go? Being without it is like an amputation of his sixth sense. It’s horrifying. Unnatural.

Ben takes another deep breath and thinks only of Rey— their bond was woven in the Force, but it was something more than that, too. Something about it belonged only to itself. Ben calls on that part, reaching desperately for any sign.

He’s about to give up on that, too, when he feels something— barely. It’s a weak pulse, a mere fraction of what their bond felt like before, but it’s there. It doesn’t necessarily feel like Rey in the way he’s used to, but he knows innately that he needs to follow it. It will lead him to her. It has to.

He doesn’t understand how it’s possible for her to be here and alive, but he’s not about to question it.

Ben follows the whisper of a feeling away from the beach and into the cityscape. He’s on high alert, but so far no sort of danger presents itself. That’s good— especially seeing how he’s completely weaponless without the Force. 

As he walks through the streets he takes note of many curious things, but the first to really hold his attention are the vehicles. Passing one after the next, he notices that they’re nothing like any typical transports or land speeders he’s seen. They’re not necessarily remarkable in any way, just… different.

The further he walks, the more unsettled he becomes. It’s the details that do it. If he squints, this place easily looks like many of the civilized places he’s been to in the galaxy. It could even look like parts of his own home planet. But when he looks closer, most every little thing looks and feels off. 

This place… it’s fundamentally different in a way he doesn’t quite know how to rationalize.

It’s a world without the Force, so far seemingly without standard tech or anything capable of flight, and without any visible influence of the First Order or the Republic. The place seems completely self-contained. He sees no variation in species and no traces of culture from other places in the galaxy. Have they excluded themselves on purpose? Have they somehow stayed hidden?

It’s bizarre. But, he thinks, if Rey’s here… then maybe this place isn’t a real place, physically speaking. It feels ridiculous to consider, but maybe it’s where people go when they die? No— she would’ve joined the Force, if anything. There’s no Force here. Then maybe it’s some plane between life and death? An alternate reality? Another universe, adjacent to theirs? An elaborate Force vision? It couldn’t be that, he doesn’t have the imagination for this, not even in his subconscious.

Something starts vibrating in Ben’s pants pocket. Alarmed, he stops at a corner and pulls it out.

It’s a communications device receiving an incoming call. The glass face responds to his touch, so he accepts it. It takes him a second to realize he needs to put the thing all the way to his ear to hear.

Tentatively he asks, “Hello?”

“Thank god. Ren— we need you to come in early today. The Clarkes have decided to sue after all and now it’s a fucking bloodbath on the tenth floor. How soon can you get here?”

The voice is a bit distorted, but he recognizes it. And he called him ‘Ren.’ 

“…Who is this?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Are you hungover again? I can’t fucking do this today. We need you. Can you get here or not?”

Hearing the voice again, Ben realizes exactly who it is.

But… but Hux is _dead._ General Pryde killed him himself after he helped Rey’s friends escape the Finalizer. 

With a couple of taps on the glass, Ben ends the call as fast as he can. He doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t understand any of this.

He quickly inspects the device out of curiosity. It could come in handy. The thing is password protected, but it recognizes Ben’s face and lets him through. The inside is complex and confuses him even further, though, so he ends up shoving it back into his pocket to figure out later.

When he really looks down at himself for the first time, he notes he’s wearing all black. At least that’s familiar. The style of the garments isn’t quite what he’s used to, but they’re fine. Comfortable. He notices there’s something in his other pocket and takes it out.

Two things— ridged metal keys on a ring, and a small folded flap containing paper currency and, strangely, cards with _his_ name on them. His given name— Ben Solo. A few of them appear to be forms of currency, as well, but another in particular holds his attention— an identification card. It has a picture of him on its face that he’s never seen before and lists a series of dates across from it that definitely aren’t Galactic Standard.

He puts the thing back where he found it and continues on, trying not to fixate over the strangeness of it all. He can’t let it trip him up or distract him from what he came here to do. 

Still, the fact that he has belongings in a place that he’s never been before confuses him. Natural deduction would suggest that he somehow has a life here.

He notices the tug growing stronger the longer he walks in the direction it guides him. He’s being led through streets that grow more and more crowded with people and vehicles. Part of him is worried someone will see him and somehow recognize him as Kylo Ren, but no one does. No one pays him any attention at all.

Something he doesn’t see approaching almost clips him at high speed.

“Get out of the bike lane, asshole!” the blur shouts as it speeds by.

Ben stares after it. 

_Bicycle._

The word simply blooms in his mind. 

Interesting.

As he goes, more and more words occur to him as though being produced from behind a curtain in his mind. _Billboard. Truck. Stop light. Sneakers. Stroller. Crosswalk._

He doesn’t even have to try. It fascinates him— it feels like remembering, but they’re all things he didn’t know in the first place. It can’t be the work of the Force, because the Force is absent. It’s something else.

Rey’s pull leads him down a smaller street branching from the main one. He follows it all the way to a shop with a unique scent pluming from its doors. This is where it ends. This is where she is.

He enters tentatively, unsure of what he’s about to find and whether or not it’ll be dangerous.

_Coffee,_ he ‘remembers,’ placing the scent as he steps in. A coffee shop.

There’s no danger, it would seem. There are people sitting at scattered tables around half of the space while the other is occupied by the vendors. The areas are connected by a counter, around which a few people are standing and waiting. It’s loud. The machines behind the counter are noisy, as are the clusters of customers inside. 

He finds himself walking right into a line. Unsure of what else to do, he stays and waits in it while he looks around.

A lot of people are using communication devices like the one Ben has, he notices, especially those sitting alone. Some have larger devices. Those in groups socialize as they drink their beverages.

He double takes at a face. _FN-2187._

The big name tag on his button-up shirt reads ‘Finn,’ but it’s him, Ben is certain. He’s walking among the tables, laughing with a group of older customers. Ben freezes when his eyes briefly pass over him, but there seems to be no recognition there. None. He moves on without a hitch, taking a small tray of cups and plates to the back with an absent-minded smile.

A chill falls over Ben. 

FN-2187 is here, but clearly not the FN-2187 Ben knows. Hux is here, but not the Hux that Ben knows. Ben himself is here, but even then, not truly the version he knows. 

This is not just another planet. This is another world.

“Next, please!” a pleasant voice calls.

Ben turns towards the sound, already knowing what he’s going to see. The next person in line steps up, allowing Ben to catch sight of her. 

Rey. 

His heart lodges in his throat. He stares in total disbelief as she presumably takes the man’s order, nodding and smiling from behind the counter. 

It’s a twist of emotions. She’s very much alive, but… different. Little things contribute to that impression, yes— her hair is longer and falls loose around her shoulders, and her clothing is unlike anything he’s ever seen her wear. But the most telling details are those which are innate and not easily describable. She holds herself in that same resolute manner she always does, but lighter. Her face looks the same, but her expression is looser, brighter— she smiles easier. Ben realizes in that very moment that he’s never actually seen her smile before. 

Less than an hour ago he was holding her lifeless body and now he’s watching her _smile_ for the first time.

He’s stunned. All of this might be easier to process if it felt unreal, but it doesn’t. Despite making absolutely no sense, this feels as real as anything he’s ever experienced. It’s impossible to discredit. This is really happening. She’s here, she’s real. Rey— at least on this plane— is alive.

“I can help you next,” Rey smiles to the woman in front of Ben.

The lady walks up slowly, distracted by her communications device. _Phone._ Her phone.

Rey drums her fingers lightly on the counter as she waits, her gaze skipping from the woman up to Ben. Her eyes shock him— their clear color, their familiarity, their life. For a split second, Ben entertains the notion that she might actually recognize him— that she’s still somehow the Rey he knows and that this will be simple.

But no. Her eyes rest on him for a beat or two longer than natural, but, while something does flicker there, it’s not the recognition he’d hoped for. She looks away just as quickly as she looked up and moves on swiftly, greeting the woman with a new smile.

Ben’s chest hurts. She looks so happy.

He looks around the shop, again searching for direction that no one is there to give him. What is he _doing?_ Why couldn’t Luke tell him more?

“Hi,” she says directly to Ben, sooner than he was expecting. The woman who was ahead of him is already walking away. “What can I get for you?”

_Oh, stars._

He can’t just _tell_ her— she has no idea who he is and no idea what has happened. Being honest with her would probably make her think he was insane, which would seriously work against him in the long run.

Ben quickly turns around and checks behind him to stall, as though she could’ve been talking to anybody else. No one’s there. There’s not even a line anymore. He steps forward cautiously, still blanking.

_Hi, yes— I know you don’t know me, but you and I are actually two that are one in the Force, which doesn’t exist here but definitely exists. You just died on another planet— which also seems not to be a thing here, but is a thing, I promise— fighting your undead grandfather who you just met. Now I’m here to take you back to where that all happened, so let’s go, yeah?_

“I—” Ben clears his throat. His heart is racing. This is too important to mess up. “I don’t know.”

“Oh,” she says brightly. Her name tag has a messy little chalk illustration of a rainbow over her name. A single yellow hair clip keeps her hair swept back from one side of her face. “Do you need a minute? Or do you want some recommendations?”

Ben nods numbly to the second suggestion. He must look deranged, reacting to all of this in paralyzed silence.

But Rey just smiles, unbothered, and leans forward. “Have you been to Kanata’s before?”

“What?” he responds instinctively. Dumbly.

“Well— are you familiar with our menu?”

“Oh,” he glances at the board on the wall that she nods to. “No.”

“Really?” She tilts her head at him and frowns slightly, pensive. “You’ve never been here before?”

The question goes right over Ben’s head. 

He just stares at her, still stuck processing the simple fact that she’s alive. She’s alive, right in front of him, and totally oblivious to _everything._ He’s trying to save her, he _needs_ to save her— that’s why he’s here. That’s the point of this. But how is he supposed to get her to come back if she remembers nothing? If she’s another _person?_

“Sorry, nevermind. But you’re in luck, we have the best coffee in Boston. You’ll be hooked.” She grins, and it’s so beautiful that his heart doesn’t know whether to grow two sizes or break. “Now, roast. Do you tend to gravitate towards the dark side or the light?”

Ben nearly chokes on his own tongue, turning away and coughing.

“You okay?”

Ben nods, swallowing and composing himself before facing her again. “Yeah, sorry— what was that?”

“It’s all good. I was just gonna say we have a new light roast that a lot of people love, but you seem like a medium-to-dark kinda guy.”

Oh. “I do?”

“I have a sense for these things. I prefer Maz’s special blend myself, which is a dark roast.”

“I’ll do that, then.”

“I was right?” she perks up. 

It makes him smile— something that feels like it should be impossible given the actual situation and stakes, but still. 

“Yeah. You were right.” He has no idea what they’re talking about but it makes her happy.

Smiling to herself about it, she reaches for a pen. “Regular or large?”

“…Regular.” 

“And can I get your name?”

Ben hesitates. He hesitates for so long that Rey looks back up to watch him curiously. 

_Kylo Ren is dead_.

“Ben.” It’s the first time he’s said it out loud. “My name is Ben.”

After seven years of renouncing the identity, Rey was the one who made him think it could have a future— that it could be more than the embodiment of its painful memories. She wielded the name like it was the truth before even he was ready to accept it. She redefined it; it’s what made him want to claim it. The girl in front of him has no idea of any of that.

“Ben,” Rey affirms with a nod, and starts writing on the cup. 

He also just always loved the way it sounded on her lips. 

She’s only gotten through the ‘B’ in his name when she stops suddenly. 

“Oh!” she exclaims, smiling. The cup is set down, forgotten. “I know! The Hose!”

“What?”

“Do you ever go there?”

Ben again has no idea what she’s talking about, but he nods. At this point, any connection he can draw with her is invaluable.

“I knew it!” she beams. “I _knew_ I’d seen you somewhere.”

He manages a smile. _You have no idea._

She points her pen at him. “Which nights do you usually go?”

“Uh… depends,” he dodges.

“I usually go weekends with my friends, but sometimes Tuesday or Thursday nights, too.”

“Yeah, Tuesdays,” he agrees, choosing randomly. He’ll need to learn their days of the week. He’ll need to learn a lot. “Sometimes.”

“No way! You’re into trivia?”

It’s strange to him, how friendly she’s being. There was a time she would’ve tried to kill him on _sight_ if he randomly walked into a place like this _,_ but here she is now, peppering him with eager questions about his weekly schedule. He’s never had this kind of attention from her before. They were always too busy fighting wars or trying to kill or turn each other.

Their story has been a dark one, there is no denying— full of betrayal and pain and cursed family legacies. There was never any room for good or light things in the way it unfolded. It never occurred to him to be sad about that before, but now suddenly he is.

If this were their world, maybe things could’ve been different. Maybe their story wouldn’t have been so short and violent and tragic. Maybe it could’ve been more.

_But it’s not,_ he reminds himself. It’s not their world.

Ben is not here to ponder what could’ve been. That doesn’t interest him— that _can’t_ interest him, not when he has so little time. This is not their world and that fantasy is not their story. Their story, their _real_ one, isn’t over. He won’t let it be. Rey needs him. _His_ Rey. He’s her only hope now. No matter what, he has to bring her home.

And to do that, he’ll have to get as close to this incarnation of her as he can, as fast as he can.

He doesn’t know how to respond to her question about trivia, though, so he shrugs in what is hopefully a pleasant way, leaving it up to interpretation.

“Really?” she says like she’s intrigued, shifting all her weight over one hip to consider him. She taps her pen over her lips in thought. “I wouldn’t have guessed that you… I just mean… you know, you’re not really…” She stops tapping with a little shake of her head, a slight blush in her cheeks. “You know what, nevermind. Sorry. That’s really cool.”

She picks up the cup again to finish writing.

Ben’s eyes fall on the smudged rainbow over her name once again, looking for anything to continue the conversation. “I like your name tag.” 

“Oh! Thanks,” she smiles down at it and shrugs a little. “Everyone thinks it’s fitting.”

“Is it?” Sure, she looks cute, but the Rey he knew was a lot more than that.

People tend to underestimate her. A lot. He did, once. He learned quickly not to do it again.

“Well,” she sighs good-naturedly, gesturing to herself with a small laugh— the colors, the smile, the overall brightness. She smiles like she just loves the designation, but Ben isn’t convinced. It doesn’t reach her eyes. “I mean, look at me.”

His question still stands. “I am.”

She stops cold and just stares at him for a moment. He stares back, wishing very badly that he could look into her mind.

Then, slowly, she turns and hands his cup to another worker. When she comes back, she moves along like it didn’t happen, avoiding eye contact.

“Your total is three dollars and fifty cents.”

Right. _Wallet. Money._ He pulls it out and hands her the paper credits. 

She takes them, head down. Their fingertips skim for the briefest moment. A fresh wave of desperation floods Ben at the warmth of her skin. 

How is he supposed to do this? How is supposed to convince someone who sees him as a stranger to leave her life and follow him to a seemingly pretend place? And without the Force?

Rey hands him back some coins which he drops into a tip jar, the way he’d observed some of the others do.

She smiles again, but it’s all professional this time. “Thanks. Your order should be up soon at the counter back there.”

Ben racks his brain for anything else to say while he still has her audience, but nothing comes to him that wouldn’t probably ruin everything. He doesn’t have enough information yet. He already seems to have maybe said the wrong thing.

“Right. Thanks.” He forces a polite smile in return and walks away toward the back counter, fighting the urge to turn around as he goes. He doesn’t want to take his eyes off her, but he can’t attract the wrong kind of attention to himself. He has to blend in if he wants this to work; he can’t scare her. She’ll have to want to know him.

He’s too claustrophobic in the shop to stay once his drink is ready, so he takes it and leaves. He wouldn’t have known what to do with himself in there, anyway. He would’ve felt too watched.

He stays nearby, though. He finds an out-of-the-way spot with a vantage point and waits.

As he waits, he tries the drink. He doesn’t hate it, even though it’s freakishly strong and nothing like he was expecting. It’s overwhelmingly bitter, but there’s something about it that makes him take another sip every time. Keeping half his attention on the front door, he takes the time to figure out his phone some more, as well.

He’s there for close to three hours before Rey finally leaves the shop. FN-2187 is with her. Staying a careful ways behind them, Ben follows, trying to strike a balance of distance that allows him to hear what they’re saying while remaining unnoticeable. 

“Are you gonna come home first?” Ben overhears FN-2187 ask as they wait to cross a street in a group of people. There’s a lot of foot traffic in this city. It makes it harder to hear but easier to blend.

“Yeah, I’ll have to shower before class,” she answers, sounding tired.

“Cool, we can go together then. When do you get off?”

“Depends on how busy the garage is. I don’t think he’ll make me stay past four, though.”

“Well I get home from Physics at three, so I can get us something to eat before we…”

Ben loses the conversation as the small crowd surges forward, trying _not_ to get pointlessly angry over how close an alternate version of Rey is to the alternate version of her friend. Instead, he logs the details of what he heard as best he can as he follows. _Class. Home. Garage._

Two blocks later, the two split up. Ben makes the snap decision to follow FN-2187, gathering that he’s headed to wherever they both live. That’ll be important to know. He also gets the impression that FN-2187 will be easier to follow undetected— not as vigilant or aware of his surroundings as Rey is. Getting caught by her at this point would be catastrophic, as much as he’d like to stay close.

Their journey ends in a more residential area, where Ben watches FN-2187 disappear into a brick-faced three-story building. Ben notes the location in his phone, steps back, and once again waits.

He needs a strategy. One has already sort of started forming— to learn as much as he can from a distance before acting. He’ll continue that. He needs to know more about this version of Rey, but also more about this _world_. He doesn’t want to waste his limited time, but he needs to be smart. Investing a small portion of time in research seems wise.

He’ll learn her general patterns from afar while acclimatizing to the culture, then, when ready, initiate contact somehow.

His phone seems like it’ll be an invaluable tool— it has access to all kinds of information, and Ben has quickly learned how to use it. Hux calls several more times. Ben ignores him several more times. He discovers text messages between him and others, but no one he really recognizes beyond Hux and, interestingly, Phasma. The conversations themselves are all foreign to him, though.

As he waits, Ben recalls the blue sweater that FN-2187 was wearing over his uniform when he and Rey left the coffee shop. He searches on his phone for the large text that was printed on it: _U MASS BOSTON._

It’s a school— a university, very close to here. He and Rey must attend it. Ben notes this. He’s actually noted a lot by now, considering he’s only been here for less than a day. So far, he’s learned about ‘The Hose,’ determined the location of her residence, scouted her work, and identified her school. 

Now that he already knows exactly where they’re going next, Ben feels less of a burning need to wait here for it. His eyes sting from tiredness, even while just sitting here on a random bench doing essentially nothing. 

Growing slightly light-headed, Ben starts to wonder what his own deal is. He checks the identification card from his wallet again, now clearly recognizing some of the text on it to be an address. His address, presumably. Using his phone, he navigates a route there.

It’s not actually terribly far away— a twenty minute walk, at most. Still, although none of his physical injuries from Exegol followed him here, the general mental exhaustion from the distress of it all is catching up. The pleasant buzz from the coffee has completely seeped from his veins now, too. To top it off, the strangeness of this place only continues to gnaw at his nerves, getting worse and worse the more time he has to absorb it.

He gets to the place he’s looking for without collapsing and, thankfully, one of the keys from his pocket successfully opens the lock on the door.

He opens it slowly. Nothing bad happens, so he steps inside. 

It’s cool and quiet. He’s never seen this place, but it feels familiar. There’s a small kitchen to his right, a rather sterile living space ahead, and a hallway that likely leads to more. Everything is quite sharp and clean, but still a thousand times homier than his quarters on the Finalizer— than any of his quarters from the past decade, really.

A noise pulls his attention, so he turns— and suddenly a large mass of black fur is attacking him, barking excitedly. The thing is so big that his paws scratch at Ben’s chest when he’s on his back legs.

Somehow Ben knows not to panic. Without thinking, he actually laughs.

“Down, Grim,” he complains, pushing the dog down with a smile. Grim obeys, wagging his tail and anxiously prancing in place.

Even though Ben has never seen this dog in his life, being welcomed by a friendly face is the greatest relief he could’ve asked for in this moment.

His new shaggy friend follows him through his sweep of the house. There’s nothing alarming or seemingly out of order. The place seems normal. Definitely his.

Ben finally lets himself relax.

There’s so much he has to do now. He has to figure out where he is. He has to figure out how to exist here. He has to make a real plan and take real steps. He needs to learn about Rey. He needs to get close to her. He has to save her. 

He enters the dark bedroom and pauses just in front of the neatly-made bed. Grim stops beside him, panting quietly. Ben reaches and pets his head, sitting down on the edge of the mattress.

_There’s so much to do,_ he thinks again. It’s the most important thing he’ll ever do. It’s _the_ most important thing. He feels his consciousness flicker. _So much._

He’ll just rest his eyes for a moment.

The last thing Ben is aware of is Grim’s warm body curling up faithfully beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter vibe: "Hand Over Hand" by Roland Faunte [ [x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXErWo3qM8w)
> 
> I have literally never been to the east coast no less Boston but my brain DEMANDED that this take place there, please forgive any inaccuracies going forward!!
> 
> p.s. I'm sorry for the pain of the last chapter— it was necessary 🙈🖤
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> ***edit/extra p.s.*** everyone pls pretend that ben never drank coffee in his universe. i remembered that caf existed like a week after i posted this chapter. your cooperation with my absolute idiocy is much appreciated. thank you


	3. our dreams are all the same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mention of recreational drugs, mention of suicide

_The only life in the universe._

This one little planet houses the only life in this entire universe.

To their credit, the people here know exactly what and where they are, more or less. No delusion as to what they’re working with. No shying away from cold truth.

They know where they are in their system, where their system is in their galaxy, and where all of that is in relation to everything else. They know about other galaxies, too, even if they’ve never actually left their own. Their science isn’t anything special, but it’s solid enough to clearly prove to Ben that they’re correct about all of it. 

Being isolated hasn’t made them ignorant or unaware by any means, it’s just made them… well, alone. Completely alone. That’s what disturbs him the most.

It’s crazy to think that they just _exist_ day to day with that knowledge. How are they not paralyzed by the horror of it? Of knowing that they’re spinning on a rock in dead space with no one else, anywhere? No one on the other side to share the phenomenon of life with, no one to hear them should they call out, no one to witness them live or notice them die?

Ben supposes they have no other choice. They’ve known no reality other than the one in which they are alone. Maybe Ben can relate to that. 

Maybe that’s why the concept of it applying to the whole _universe_ unnerves him so much. There’s no place to run from the aloneness— not even in a starship.

At least now he can confirm that this place isn’t simply some random far-flung planet he’s never been to before. There’s no use in continuing to entertain that as a possibility just because it would be the easiest answer to accept. He has to know what he’s really dealing with in order to conquer it, even if the answer is freaky and doesn’t make sense. He’ll make sense of it somehow. He has to.

So, for the next two days, Ben learns. Using a slim computer that he finds in his apartment, he researches anything and everything he can think of. The interface is relatively easy to use after a period of adjustment. It ends up being the most useful instrument he’s found so far. 

He starts with understanding the big picture and narrows from there.

‘Earth.’ Population seven and a half billion people. Inhabited by many species, but just the one is dominant. Holds an incredibly complex history. The invention of technology most relevant to society was surprisingly recent. Intricate social practices vary greatly, depending on too many factors for Ben to keep straight.

The country he finds himself in is known for its democracy— a somewhat ironic place for a Supreme Leader to sent to, he acknowledges— and a state within it known for its place in the country’s early history. ‘ _Ense petit placid sub libertate quietem,’_ a website tells him their motto is. ‘By the sword we seek peace, but peace only under liberty.’ War appears to be universal. Multi-universal.

The city is a large one. Six-hundred ninety-four thousand people, separated into over a hundred neighborhoods with distinct personalities. The one his apartment is located in is considered to be one of the most central and most expensive to live in. 

This makes Ben wonder who he even _is_ here— whose life he has stepped into. 

Going through all his online accounts and documents ends up being the fastest way to figure it out. Passwords pop into his head with no effort. Intuition leads him through the dry, confusing patches. It’s disorienting on a personal level to examine the web of a life he hasn’t lived, but absolute gold in terms of collecting data.

All official accounts and files— paychecks, bank statements, the like— use his true name, just as his government-issued identification does. Everything else uses ‘Kylo Ren.’ Anyone who has ever sent a message to either his personal or work-dedicated email account addresses Ben as either Kylo Ren, Ren, or Mr. Ren. The same goes for all correspondence in his phone. Without exception. This version of himself that he… _replaced_ was publicly using his old alias before Ben showed up.

Ben’s investigation swivels specifically to who this Kylo Ren is— who _he_ supposedly is meant to be— and what he might be able to use to his advantage.

Emails and internet searches show he’s a corporate lawyer working for a large financial holdings company. He gets billed for two separate private gym memberships each month. He owns a car, which is somewhat of an anomaly for residents of the city. He has a dog who eats expensive dog food and sees a groomer regularly. Overall, he seems wealthier than average. Figuring his way into his own online banking account confirms this. He has enough money to last him years in this place if he stopped working today. That’s certainly useful— he only needs a month.

When he walks around the house with a keener eye, Ben notices new details. The guest room has cobwebs in it. The walls and counters have no photos or personal touches, only smatterings of strange abstract art. A rather large liquor collection. A phone full of work correspondence, but nothing really close to social.

This Kylo was lonely, Ben can tell. Not that he’s surprised by it.

Ben takes frequent, periodic walks with Grim to give his mind a break. So much new information makes his head hurt and Grim loves him for it. People sometimes stare at them on their walks, but not necessarily in a bad way. Grim is big and rather pretty with his shiny black coat. Noticeable.

A little girl on the path along the sand toddles up to pet him on one walk and Ben freezes, sure that the mother behind her is going to start screaming for her to get away from him or something.

But then she just laughs while scooping up the kid, looks him straight in the eye, and apologizes. To _him_. Ben numbly tells her it’s okay, having to remember again he’s not at risk of being revealed as _the_ Kylo Ren here. As himself. He’s truly just another person.

It’s not a relief in the way he wants it to be. It just feels like deception. If they knew who he really was, what he's done… 

There’s no point in going there.

Towards the end of the first day of research, Ben goes back to Kanata’s Coffee. He tells himself it’s more likely than not that she won’t be there, and he’s right— she’s not working. It’s probably for the best. Seeing him show up to her workplace two days in a row when she literally, specifically knows that he’d never been there before might’ve backfired. Still, he kind of just wanted to see her face. He mostly just wanted to see her face.

It’s much more peaceful in the shop around sundown, so Ben stays for a while. Only a few other customers linger. He orders a large this time and settles in with it in the back corner at a small table. He’s been reading about the American university system on his phone for close to an hour when he randomly overhears Rey’s name and nearly drops it.

He turns and finds the source of the voice— a girl behind the counter, wiping down one of the machines. Late teens or early twenties, on the short side, dark hair with a fringe. Her big chalk name tag says ‘Rose.’ FN-2187 steps into view, blocking her, his back to Ben.

He tunes in best he can.

“I’ll ask her.”

“You don’t have to ask her— she literally just told me, Finn.”

“Well, she told _me_ she’s taking more shifts here.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure she’s doing both.”

“What? Is she insane?”

Rose’s voice projects and brightens instantly like someone flipped a switch. “Hi there, welcome. How can I help you?”

Finn sighs, mumbling to himself as he organizes a section of counter. Ben halfway listens to Rose take a tall brunette’s order.

“That’ll be up in just a sec!” Rose beams. Once the customer takes a seat towards the front, they continue their argument, this time clattering around making coffee as they do.

“She could make the same money here, if not better. I don’t know why she’s killing herself like this. She’s already doing way too much. And, by the way, the youth enrichment thing doesn’t even _pay._ I still get why she does that, but this? It’s not like she wants to be a mechanic!”

“Oh, so she wants to be a barista?”

FN-2187 scoffs. “Of course not, but it’s a hell of a lot more—”

A machine sends a loud noise _whirr_ ing through the shop. The sound feels sharper than it did in the busy morning, almost violent. Ben makes a fist, his fingernails biting into his palm as he strains to hear. Finally it stops.

“—Just let her do what she wants. She’s a big girl, Finn. She likes working at Ace’s. It’s not up to you.”

“I’m just worried. I don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to get it. You just have to support her.” Rose walks around him and sets a cup on the order counter. “I’ve got your triple vanilla latte, miss!”

They wait for the girl to come up and claim her drink, then smile and wish her a good night as she walks out. The moment she crosses the threshold, both their smiles drop at the same exact time in the same exact way. It’s kind of funny.

“So what did she tell you, exactly?”

“She gave up Thursdays here so she can work a full shift over there.” 

FN-2187 groans. “That’s one of the only shifts we have together.”

“Suck it up. You literally live with her, you baby.”

He frowns at this, but can’t hold it for long and laughs. Rose joins. 

“Fine, fine. But if she gets injured or something, I’m giving that guy a piece of my mind, whatever his name is.”

Rose snorts. “Yeah, alright.”

Ben leaves unnoticed once they both disappear to the back.

The first thing he searches for when he gets home is _‘Ace’s + mechanic.’_ An auto repair shop in Boston pops up, not far away from here at all.

It opens at eight o’clock on Thursdays. Good. He has another day to prepare— he could use it. There’s still a lot about this world he doesn’t understand.

Unable to sleep, Ben spends the night on the internet learning about driving and cars and what he could possibly claim to be wrong with his. He still has to figure out where the thing actually is— hopefully it’s close. Hopefully he’ll recognize it when he sees it. Whatever. That’s a problem for the morning.

…Which he really doesn’t expect to come so fast. 

He must fall asleep right there at the table because next he knows, Ben is jolted awake by a rapid pounding on his front door. The light from the window signals that it’s dawn. He’s not sure how that happened. 

Ben peels his face off the glass table and stumbles from his chair to go answer.

Half-asleep and vaguely alarmed, he doesn’t really think to stop and prepare himself for whoever it might be. The impaired cognition from table-sleeping sort of makes him skip over that bit. His mistake. The second he turns the knob, his own door _shoves_ him backwards into the kitchen. Ben stumbles back, instantly awake and gearing to fight. 

He stops in his tracks when he sees who it is— partly out of shock, partly out of the realization that this person probably couldn’t physically harm him if they tried. 

None other than Armitage Hux has stormed into his apartment and slammed the door closed behind him with a huff.

“Thank god, I was worried you were dead. Did you _block_ me?” He slaps a package down on Ben’s kitchen counter, sour-faced. As an aside, he adds, “That was outside. You’re welcome.”

Ben takes another step back and stares. Strange. Hux is exactly the same, just more… human. More imperfect. His posture isn’t painfully ramrod straight anymore. His face, while still annoyed-looking, is infinitely more natural and relaxed. His hair doesn’t look like it would crunch or make Ben’s hand _wet_ if he were to touch it. So— definitely an improvement, at least at first glance.

He advances on Ben in the kitchen. “What’s going on? Where’ve you been? And also, again— did you fucking _block me?”_

Oh, yeah _._ Ben did that. Ben blocked him. He was calling incessantly.

“Sorry,” Ben says, still eyeing Hux as though he might be a staggeringly lifelike holo. “… Didn’t mean to.”

Hux scoffs. “Unbelievable. It’s fucking impossible to be your friend, you know that? You can’t just block people every time you’re slightly annoyed.” He adjusts his tie, scowling. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

When Hux doesn’t continue, Ben awkwardly clears his throat. “So then… why are you—” 

“ _—To see what the fuck is wrong with you!_ ” Hux reaches out fast as lightning and slaps Ben upside the head. “Since when do you ditch work? Ever? Two days! You left me high and dry with the Clarkes, you prick!”

Ben reigns in the sharp urge to shove Hux to the ground for daring to touch him— for _speaking_ to him that way. Instinct calls for him to grab the pasty weasel by the throat, slam him against the refrigerator, and hold him there until he sees black. He might not have the Force, but he is _not_ above using his hands.

_He’s not really Hux. Not Hux. Not Hux. Not Hux._

There was a time when he might’ve _executed_ the real Hux for such an offense. It certainly would’ve given him an excuse to do it; it’s not like he hadn’t considered it before.

But now he’s Ben’s… _friend._

Ben swallows down his would-be violent reaction with difficulty. “Sorry.”

Hux steps closer, losing the antagonism. Suddenly his words are more personal. “What is it? Are you sick or something?”

With this, Ben shoves away to the next room. He’s more disturbed by the care in Hux’s words than he was by the hand he raised against him. “Yeah. Sick. Sorry.”

“You know how having a job works, don’t you?” Hux follows right behind him. “If you want to keep yours, you have to fucking tell someone when you can’t come in.”

“I don’t. Want to keep it.” Clumsy, but to the point.

“What?”

Ben turns to face him. “I quit. I’m quitting.”

Hux laughs uncomfortably. “Okay, what’s happening here? Are you on drugs?”

Ben looks away, not prepared for this line of questioning. He shouldn’t let anybody look too closely at him or what he’s doing— they could get in the way. He can’t afford that.

“Are you? God, _fuck,_ I told you not to buy from randoms. I’ve got a guy. We agreed after that weird molly, remember?”

Ben takes a stab at an earnest response, one that’ll hopefully be enough to get Hux to believe him and move on. “No, really. I’m serious. I want to be done. I don’t want to do—” _law? finance? what was it?_ “— _this_ anymore. I just want to move on, and so I am. That’s it.”

Hux slowly perches himself on the arm of Ben’s couch and frowns at the floor, thinking for a long time. 

“You’ve never mentioned anything about quitting to me before.”

What, like Ben would confide anything in Armitage Hux? _Friend,_ he reminds himself again.

Ben sucks it up and takes the soft approach. “I know. But I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I’m sure.”

“But— but why now?” Hux complains. “This isn’t because of that thing with Avery last month, is it? If it is… Oh my god.” His expression turns to disbelief. “You’re moving to a different company, aren’t you?”

“No! No. I’m not moving anywhere,” Ben waves, starting to become annoyed. “I’m just done. I’m quitting because… because I need to and because I can. That’s it. That’s all it is.”

“You’re just going to… stop? Almost a decade at Supreme Commerce and you’re really just… done?”

“Done,” Ben confirms. “Over.”

Hux processes this for a long moment. “Is it official? Have you sent in your resignation?”

Ben makes a mental note. “I’m doing it today.”

“Wow,” Hux nods slowly. Then he sighs with a pout. “You’re leaving me _alone._ I mean, I have Phasma, but still. Everyone else sucks.”

Ben shrugs apologetically.

“You’re not ditching _me_ now, are you? We’re still on for Friday and everything, right?”

Ben hesitates. This could be a problem.

“That’s a trick question, because I’m not letting you,” Hux finishes sharply. “We’re going out Friday.” 

Actually… maybe he can use this. “Where?”

“I don’t know, we’ll probably decide last minute like we usually do.” 

“Have we ever been to The Hose?”

“Have we—” Hux blinks rapidly at him. “Are you _sure_ you’re not on drugs?”

“Have we been there?” Ben repeats.

_“No,”_ Hux says slowly and loudly, like Ben needs it. “Why the fuck would we?”

This makes sense. Ben nods, making his decision. “Yeah, okay. Good. Let’s go there, then.”

Hux scoffs a few times in a row, like he can’t form words. “What? Why? No. It’s crawling with college kids!”

“There are fifty-two colleges in the Boston metropolitan area,” Ben reasons, ignoring the perplexed look Hux gives him. “It should be just as likely as anywhere else to have college kids.”

“Uh, no. It’s definitely _more_ likely given its location in _‘the Boston metropolitan area’_ and you and I both fucking know that. You literally hate anyone under the age of thirty, you have since you were twenty-five. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. I think it could be… fun.”

“My god, you’re having an early mid-life crisis.”

“I just want to check it out.” Ben will go without Hux if he has to, but he’d rather not. Hux could be his guide through this insanity if he plays it right. Or at least a crutch. He tightens a fist where Hux can’t see it to be able to squeeze out the word. “…Please?”

His friend sighs. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

“Thank you.”

Hux chews his lip, thinking in some other direction. Finally he comes out with it. 

“It’s just— I know you’ve been unhappy, okay? For a long time. I get that. That’s how it goes for people like us, you know. But I guess I thought we’d both gotten used to it. That we’d stick it out forever. But now… I just can’t believe you’re seriously quitting.”

Ben almost smiles, hearing truth in the words on a level that Hux himself doesn’t understand. “I was used to it, you’re right. But now I want to change that, so I’m, you know… choosing differently. On purpose.”

“Huh.” Hux crosses his legs and frowns out the window thoughtfully. “Interesting concept.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not actually going to, like, kill yourself or something, are you?”

Without meaning to, Ben laughs out loud. “No. Definitely not. Can’t.”

Hux smiles along with him, bemused. “Can’t?”

“I have things I need to do.”

“Ah, a bucket list,” Hux grins wider, teasing. “Rounding out the midlife crisis, I see. Are you escaping the corporate underworld to ‘find your purpose,’ Ren?”

_Purpose._

Whenever Ben closes his eyes now, he sees only one memory that isn’t shattered or tinted red. Only one that draws him away from recollected ledges of bottomless pits, only one that’s in full color instead of blue and grey. It’s simple— just the image of Rey smiling in the coffee shop. Plain and powerful. 

“Yeah,” Ben says. “Something like that.”

Ben finds his car within ten minutes of looking for it. He has the license plate number written on the back of his hand to help him, but he doesn’t end up needing it. He lays eyes on a random, unassuming black SUV parked a block away from his apartment building and immediately knows that it’s his. 

He’s cued, as well, by Grim, who gets abnormally excited as they approach it. Confident that he’s solved that particular problem, Ben finishes the rest of their walk, now free to move right along the next one— actually driving. 

He’s hoping he can rely on the strange mechanism in his brain that keeps feeding him relevant information as he needs it to be able to drive. It makes him nervous that he doesn’t know for sure yet, but he’s a _pilot_ , for crying out loud. A good one, too. It’s not like he won’t be able to handle it. It can’t be any more difficult than flying a ship.

On Thursday, however, he finds out that he is wrong. So wrong.

Driving itself comes more or less naturally to Ben, but the streets do _not._ He’s seen better urban planning on impoverished backwater planets in the Outer Rim. There are absurd amounts of people clogging the way in every direction he turns. Other drivers constantly disregard the basic tenants of the law— the law that Ben spent _hours_ of his own limited time studying yesterday just to find out today that is all but obsolete. There’s no space to do any anything anywhere, and the amount of control that the vehicle itself allows him is frustratingly limited. Most of all he’s annoyed at how much of ‘driving’ is actually waiting.

Ben gets the hang of it fast enough, of course, but still feels lucky when he gets to Ace’s Auto without killing anyone. Not out of lack of skill or control, but an abundance of rage.

The place is small and beige, sort of blending into the neighboring buildings. The sole reason he’s even sure he’s at the right place is a small sign above the garage and, even then, Ben really has to look for it. 

He parks in the small lot next to the main office. On his way over, Ben takes deep breaths and rehearses his story in his head. _The wheel is acting up. Gets stuck, makes noise, vibrates really loud. Think it’s the power steering._

He’s anxious. No denying. This is the second time Rey will ever see him, and it’s important what she thinks. She has to like him, or at least not hate him right away— because of the strategy, of course. It’s just about the strategy.

The front door doesn’t open when Ben tugs on it, which is odd. No one’s inside, at least not up front where he can see. He nervously runs a hand through his hair, catching sight of his own scowl in the reflection of the glass. They’ve been open for a few hours, so they must be here. They’re probably just in the actual shop.

When he reaches the mouth of the garage, Ben stops and clears his throat to announce his presence. Nothing. There are a couple cars suspended on metal frames inside that definitely look like they’re being worked on, but there’s no one in sight working on them. It seems everything is abandoned, totally still.

Ducking his head under a support beam, Ben steps inside and wanders deeper with careful tread. The only sound in space are his own footsteps. The silence and high ceilings make them seem louder than they are.

“Hello?” He ducks a couple more beams. Steps over a wrench. “Anyone here?”

He sighs and looks around, at a loss. Maybe they’re on break. Someone has to show up eventually. He’ll wait. 

A toolbox at the foot of a beat-up red car catches Ben’s attention. With nothing else to do, he goes to kneel by it curiously.

It’s so strange seeing how similar this world is to his, especially now that he knows how different they actually are. The details are more alike than the big picture. These simple repair tools in front of him are of the same ilk that Ben would use to repair his own ships. It’s like looking at branches of a root language— even though he doesn’t speak this place, he can understand it. Recognize its prints.

Intrigued, Ben picks up what looks like a simplified hydrospanner and starts to inspect it. 

He’s trying to identify the specific groove pattern on the tip when, out of nowhere, a familiar voice comes from directly behind him.

“…Ben?”

Ben startles and drops the lookalike into the box with a loud clatter. He whips around to look over his shoulder in disbelief and—

He feels all of the blood flood from his face. 

“Dad,” Ben chokes out, frozen.

He snaps out of it and roughly pushes himself to his feet. He wants to run. He also wants to throw himself right back down and beg forgiveness until his throat bleeds. 

He should’ve _known_. He should have known something like this might happen, that he might find him here. He should’ve prepared himself for this possibility. 

But he didn’t— he was too focused on Rey.

And now what feels like a reanimated corpse is standing in front of him, looking just the same as Ben remembers. Just the way he conjured him on the Death Star. Not exactly, of course— like all the duplicates here so far, he’s wearing unfamiliar clothing and carries himself a little bit differently, but other than that… other than that, Ben is looking straight at Han Solo. 

Not undead, nor from memory. Alive and real.

Han eyes Ben with worry and confusion as though _he_ might be a ghost. “Hi. It’s, uh… is everything… what brings you here?”

_Nope,_ Ben decides on the spot, taking a step back.

But the forces of this world must be toying with him because, just as he’s turning to flee… his foot slips on a wrench.

For a split second as he falls, Ben naively thinks to reach out for the Force to stop himself. 

He doesn’t get the chance to realize it would’ve been a mistake. Before he can even try it, his head slams into the corner of a steel frame and all thought of it or anything else is gone.

_Dull black._

_Voices._

_Scuffling._

He’s not sure how long it lasts. 

Then, slowly, the world opens back up. The first thing he notices is his head, throbbing. Did he hit in on the concrete, too?

“Ben, can you hear me?” It’s his father’s voice.

Fingers snap in his right ear, then his left. Ben groans.

“Good. Rey, take it over there. That side.”

“No,” he moans low in protest, not realizing that he’s saying it out loud until it’s already out loud. This is _not_ how this was supposed to go. He was not supposed to be collapsed on the ground for this.

He starts to sit up, but a hand stops him. It’s Rey’s. 

“Just wait a second, you’re bleeding,” she says, sounding almost annoyed.

“Oh,” Ben mutters in imitation of relief. “Good.”

She breathes a laugh, one so quiet that he would’ve missed it if he weren’t listening so closely. 

He tries to open his eyes, but sure enough, there’s blood running down into one of them making that difficult.

“Here.” Rey takes a folded piece of light fabric and presses it to Ben’s brow. “Hold that.”

Ben holds it, squinting at them as best he can. He can make out their two figures kneeling on either side of him now. They’re featureless, backlit by the bright grey overcast sky. Great.

“Sit up if you want now. Slowly.” Han holds Ben’s elbow in support as he pushes himself upright. “Lean up against this.”

Ben settles against the column Han indicates, head throbbing even harder. His vision adjusts after a moment and he gets his first real look at the both of them.

Han is on the right in oil-stained jeans and a beat-up leather jacket, his weathered face twisted in confusion and concern. Rey, who seems to be avoiding Ben’s eye, is sitting right next to him on his left in a long-sleeved shirt and black overalls. Work clothes. Her hair is tied up, not in buns but a single ponytail. There’s a smudge of dirt or grease on her cheek that calls to him to wipe away.

“How do you feel?” Han asks. Ben forcefully tears his attention away from the smudge.

_Blindsided. Horrified. Mortified._ “Fine, I think. I’m fine.” 

“Good, good.”

He glances at Rey again. She’s pawing through what looks like a beat-up medical kit and doesn’t notice him looking at her, or pretends not to.

“We don’t usually have people come back here— it’s not exactly tidy. Sorry about that.”

“It was my fault, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Han nods. “Well, I’m glad.” He hesitates. “Not to be rude, Ben, but… what are you doing here?”

Ben swallows. With no better idea, he sticks to his story. “Problem with my steering wheel.”

There’s a tense period of silence. Rey quietly replaces the damp gauze on Ben’s brow with a new dry square, stoutly minding her business. Han is looking at him like he’s crazy. 

“You came because… you wanted to get your car checked out? Here?”

Ben nods.

Han looks no more comprehending. “Really?”

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs nervously. “Is that okay?”

Another long silence.

“Of course,” Han says finally, seemingly coming to his senses. “Of course, yes, we can do that.” He breaks into a full smile— one of those true grins Ben barely remembers. They became so few and far between as he grew up. “Sorry, I’m surprised, is all. It’s just— I’m just… it's good to see you.”

“You too,” Ben manages calmly, however awkward.

On the inside, though, it’s taking him every single ounce of control he’s ever possessed to keep himself anchored in the present. To avoid being pulled into the undertow of the past.

That simple _‘it’s good to see you’_ — said so casually, like the last seven years didn’t happen— has the potential to bomb Ben’s mental-emotional state to oblivion, and he is very aware of the fact. If he were to let himself feel everything that is demanding to be felt in this moment, most of all the guilt and the grief, it would utterly derail him. He can’t let that happen. This isn’t about him. He has to stay focused, keep it together.

And so he does— like his life depends on it. Or, more accurately, like Rey’s does.

Han’s smile widens, growing more confident. He glances over at Rey as if suddenly remembering she’s there.

“Sorry— Ben, this is Rey. Rey, this is Ben. My son.”

Rey stops when she hears this. She looks between the two of them with a confused frown.

“Your… son?”

Han gives her an indecipherable but meaningful look. “Yes.”

She absorbs this with a perfectly straight face, followed by a polite, “Oh.” Then she continues busying herself with something in the kit.

A car horn honks twice right outside the garage. It’s loud. Makes Ben flinch. 

“That’s Gregor,” Han says. “Rey, can you check and make sure he doesn’t have a concussion?”

Rey nods.

“Thanks, kid.” Han stands. “Ben, don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back after I deal with this guy.”

“Won’t,” Ben mumbles, simultaneously numb and reeling.

And then they’re alone. 

Rey continues tending to him wordlessly. She removes the gauze and replaces it with an adhesive bandage, then cleans the excess trail blood from his eye using a cold, strong-smelling solution on some cotton.

Ben closes his eyes until she’s finished.

“It’s really just a scratch,” she informs him. “It’ll heal fast.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.” Her eyes meet his briefly when he opens them again. “You were at Kanata’s.”

S _he remembers._ “I was.”

“Ben with the dark roast,” she muses.

“Rey with the rainbow.”

She stares at him, carefully blank. Almost like she’s trying to puzzle something together. 

It feels like it should be a funny or cute moment, but it’s really not. Instead, there’s a strange sense of hostility in the air.

Finally she speaks. “I didn’t know Han had a son.”

After a deep, weary breath, Ben simply answers, “He does.”

Her eyes widen slightly. Regret. “Sorry— I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s just that I’ve known him for kind of a long time and he never… never…”

“Never mentioned me?” Ben fills in flatly.

Rey screws her eyes shut, now full-on embarrassed. “Shit. Sorry. I’m sorry. I really wasn’t trying to say— anything. Anything about anything.”

“It’s fine. Really.” It’s not like he’s able to process it, anyway. The specific daddy issues in question aren’t even really his.

She’s mortified by the faux pas, but hides it as best she can.

“Um. Here. Let me check you.” She holds a hand up in front of his face. “Just keep your head still and follow my finger with your eyes.”

Ben prepares himself. “Okay.”

Rey starts slowly moving her index finger side to side, and Ben keeps his eyes on it as instructed.

Considering what they’re capable of, her hands and wrists and fingers are incredibly delicate-looking. He’s always thought that. He actually thinks about it a lot. 

He still has dreams of her hands, trembling across firelight, bending time and space to find him.

“Seems alright,” Rey decides, dropping her hand. Ben has to look away for a moment to center himself, to stop the worlds from blurring. “I didn’t see how hard you actually went down, but I think you’re fine. You’ll probably just have a scab and a bruise.”

When he looks again, she has her head tilted to the side, idly rubbing her jaw. Just two inches higher and she’d wipe away the smudge on her cheek. Ben almost forgets to respond, momentarily mesmerized.

“Oh— right. Good.”

“But if you feel nauseous later, or if your head or vision is bothering you, you should definitely go see a doctor.”

“Got it. I will. Thanks.” Then, to fill the silence, he gestures to the kit. “Do you have to do this kind of thing a lot?”

He can see all her freckles in perfect detail at this distance. Eyelashes, too.

She shrugs. “Well, I gave Han stitches once.”

“Is that what you’re going to school for?” he asks, half-joking. “Seems like you’re good at this.”

“How do you know I go to school?” Rey says immediately, shifting back.

Ben points to the ‘U MASS’ logo on her shirt peeking out from behind the overalls, trying not to smirk. “That.”

“Oh.” She relaxes, but her scowl remains. “Right.”

She starts piecing the medical kit back together, once again not looking at him in a way that feels very intentional. Almost aggressive.

“Have I done something to offend you, Rey?” he asks outright.

His directness must surprise her, because it makes her drop what she’s doing. Literally drop it— the bottle of solution rattles right down into the box with all the other supplies. For a second, all she does is blink at him in frustration, struggling to respond.

“Other than inconvenience you with a bit of blood, that is,” he adds in the silence, waiting.

Her face goes pink. “What makes you think that?”

He waves a hand that gestures to all of her. “Just… you.”

“I could just _be_ like this.”

“But you’re not, are you?” He’s seen her at Kanata’s. He found some of her social accounts online, too. He knows she self-identifies as… friendly. Sweet. Perfectly kind-hearted.

“You don’t know what I’m like,” she snaps indignantly, although her tone of voice makes it obvious to Ben that she knows that he knows that he’s right. They both know it. So she snaps harder. “Well maybe it would help if you’d stop _looking_ at me like that.”

“Looking at you like what?”

“You _know_.”

He doesn’t, but he can guess. Even in his own galaxy where circumstances warranted it, Ben had the reputation of being… intense. Not that he cared. But now he’s realizing that he doesn’t have any practice or any _idea_ of how to turn it off— or even dial it back, for that matter.

“Sorry,” he ventures after a pause. “It’s just that— well, I’ve recently hit my head.”

Despite herself, Rey snorts at his deadpan. She covers her face with a hand, though, so as not to let him see. Once she’s collected herself, she lowers it and gives him a faux-disapproving look. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m seeing two of you right now.”

She narrows her eyes. “You just said you were fine.”

“Well, I am. I’m very hard to kill.”

Then she smiles— finally, truly smiles. “Have lots of experience with that, do you?”

_Stars, she’s beautiful._ “Mm-hm.”

“I’m sure you do.” She latches up the kit, all done, and casually folds her hands in her lap. The whitish color of her knuckles indicates she’s not as relaxed as she’s playing. 

“I do,” Ben insists. He pushes himself up straighter against the column. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you how many people have tried.”

Rey cocks an eyebrow. “What are you, wanted by the FBI?”

“No. A lawyer.”

She laughs. It’s loud and bright and full, reaching every corner of the garage. “Okay, I believe you now.”

Ben can’t help but smile just watching her, feeling warmed by it. “That’s a relief.”

Something about this makes Rey’s eyes once again fall away from his, knuckles growing whiter in her lap. Ben kicks himself. _Too much._

He swallows and tries again. “How long have you worked here? For Han?”

“A while.”

That’s when a laugh from just outside the garage disrupts their strange, delicate balancing act. They both look over at the same time, startled.

“A while?” Han ducks in with a grin, making his way over. He stops at Ben’s feet and gives Rey a fond but quizzical look. “I met this kid when she was sixteen— caught her stealing hubcaps off the cars in our lot. Can you believe that? I got her to use those skills for good, though. That was what, four years ago?” He scoffs. “ _‘A while.’_ Please. She practically owns the place.”

Ben senses it immediately— Rey retreating into herself. Her expression hardens, staring at the ground, giving nothing away.

“Oh?” he offers vaguely in response to his father.

“Oh, yeah. Knows her stuff better than any of the guys, honestly. She helps me with the books, too. Smart. But she started off as quite the little scavenger, this one.”

Rey’s wide green eyes suddenly flick up and lock with Ben’s. 

Then, out of nowhere, it’s like all the light and color is pulled from the world.

Ben realizes first that he can’t see _._ Then that he can’t hear. He’s lost all sense of his surroundings. There’s a cold tightness spreading through his chest because, most terrifying of all, he can’t _move_. He’s rendered completely immobile, pinned in place and forced to take the impending barrage with no defense.

He’s back in the pit on Exegol— _really_ back there. Flashes of living, breathing memory hit him across the face over and over, so brutal that they leave the taste of blood in his mouth. He feels the cold stone under him. The broken ankle. The ribs. The shaking muscles, trying to climb faster. The sinking knowledge that he won’t make it in time. The bottomless horror of Rey’s life leaving her body with no way to stop it.

The moment snaps like a branch, gone even faster than it came— and he’s back.

Rey’s eyes are still locked with his, but her expression now is twisted into an odd reflection of his own distress. It’s Han who speaks up, though. 

“Ben, are you alright?”

Leftover panic in the form of bile sits in his chest, ready to choke him. So, no.

The only thing keeping him from totally losing it right now is the absolute assurance that Rey is alive, and he only has that because she’s sitting right beside him. 

Reality is slipping now, apparently, if this place can even be called that. This development is what officially makes this entire situation too much for him. 

“Yeah— fine. I just… remembered about something I have to do later.” His voice only shakes a little.

Han looks skeptical, but accepts it. “Alright, well. I need to get Gregor his receipt, but then I’ll come back and we can take a look at your car, okay?”

Ben nods. He waits until Han disappears into the office to stand. Rey stands with him.

“Will you tell my dad I had to go?” he asks her, sounding rather defeated. “That I’ll come back later?”

He came here to make contact and get more information, and he did that. He knows more than he did yesterday— for example, now he knows that she’s been pseudo-adopted by his own father, feels consistently hostile and suspicious towards him, and doesn’t like when he looks at her. It’s been very enlightening. Very successful.

“Later?” Rey’s hard mask of impassivity cracks open at this, making her look younger somehow. “What? Why?”

“I need to go. Thank you for your help.” Ben brushes past and starts walking outside. It’s suddenly hard to look at her.

“But what about your steering wheel?” she objects, following close behind.

“It’s still functional.”

“And Han?”

The truth is that Ben wouldn’t survive a real conversation with Han without losing his mind right now, but he just says, “I’ll talk to him when I come back.”

“But your head— can you drive?”

He ducks outside into the open lot, beelining for his car. “Yes.”

Rey jogs ahead of him and physically blocks his path. He stops.

She has to look _up_ at him now to make eye contact and seems thrown off by it for a split second. “Uh. Just— hold on. Are you sure?”

Ben goes to step around her. “Yes, I’m sure.”

She puts her hand on his chest to stop him again. “Wait.” 

Ben freezes.

It looks like it takes real effort, but her eyes raise to his. Ben is surprised to find them not blank or caustic, but open. Cautiously so.

“Be honest. Are you actually coming back?” 

She doesn’t take her hand away. If he were to lean down right now, he could kiss her, he realizes. Hypothetically.

“Yes,” he tells her. “I’m going to come back later.”

“You’re not just saying that?” she frowns. 

“No. I’m not just saying that.”

“Because I don’t know what kind of history you have with Han, but it would be really shitty to show up randomly and then just disappear on him after. I don’t care what happened or how long it’s been. He seemed really happy to see you and he— he doesn’t deserve that.”

Ben’s throat tightens. _Were you abandoned in this life, too?_ he wonders. He wants to hunt down every person who’s helped condition her to anticipate abandonment so easily, who taught her to set it as her default expectation.

“I’m not going to do that,” he assures her. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

After a moment of studying his face, Rey nods her understanding. Except… except that she doesn’t actually believe him, Ben realizes. The gesture is empty. She’s letting him go, but she doesn’t _believe_ him. Her gaze drops away and she starts to leave.

_No,_ he thinks. _This won’t do._

Ben grabs her by the wrist before she can take her hand from his chest, keeping it there— keeping her close. Her eyes snap back up to his, genuinely surprised by the move.

“Rey. I’m _not_ going to do that,” he repeats quietly, trying convey his sincerity in every syllable. He holds her gaze so fiercely that she can’t look away, so that she _has_ to see his face, so that she _has_ to hear the words. She has to accept the promise, even if she doesn’t understand it. “I’m _not._ ” 

Then, after he feels his point is made, he lets go.

Rey blinks a few times like she’s confused— deeply confused. Overwhelmed.

_So much for dialing back the intensity._

It wouldn’t be a problem if he could just talk to her— _really_ talk to her. She would know exactly why he did that. She would know that he’s seen her childhood and that he understands the loneliness, the pain of abandonment, the ache of living as one _half_ of something and never knowing it. How could he ever _not_ be intense when to comes to her? It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t know him. She’s still Rey, in some way.

The way she’s looking at him now is making him worried. She looks… stuck in place. Terrified. When Ben notices a tear rolling down the side of her face, his stomach lurches past worry and into alarm.

“Rey?” he prompts in a low voice, leaning closer and trying not to sound panicked. He _knew_ he had to go easy and still he didn’t. What has he done? “What’s wrong? What is it?” 

She’s completely unresponsive for a few seconds— seconds that feel like hours. It feels like maybe she’s trying to form her thoughts, so Ben doesn’t interrupt her and instead waits, watching her micro-expressions flicker and flare. Another tear falls.

Then, with those big shining eyes blinking at him like he might not be real, Rey whispers very plainly: “Who _are_ you?”

The hair on the back of Ben’s neck stands up.

He hadn’t _dared_ to hope for this.

He hesitates, though. _Be careful._ “Do you know me, Rey? Do you see something?”

If he had a flashback, then maybe she could’ve had the same or similar. Maybe she just needed to be around him for a while to… wake up. He wants her to remember _so_ badly. To come back. _Please._

Rey shakes her head at nothing in particular, lost.

“I’m... Ben,” he offers awkwardly, trying not to scare her. “I’m…” How would he describe who he is to her? Enemy? Ally? Counterpart? He gives up and goes for an easier question instead. “Do you recognize me?”

She looks all around his face again like it’s written in a foreign language. Her pupils are all blown out, her eyes more black than green. It’s uncanny. 

“Yes— no. No. I don’t know. But god I— _fuck._ ” She stumbles back, shaking her head harder. “No. I’m sorry. I’ve gotten barely any sleep this week, this is probably so— I’m so sorry. This is absurd. I don’t know why this is— I don’t know _why_ I’m—”

“No no no, it’s okay,” he murmurs, stepping forward and reaching for her without realizing.

Rey holds out a hand, immediately stopping him in his tracks and effectively shutting him up, too. Then she draws a long, stabilizing breath.

“I’ll tell Han for you,” she says finally, her voice measured and quiet. It cracks slightly. “That you had to come back later— I’ll tell him like you asked.”

_…Wait. What?_ Is she just moving on now? Is that it? Is she really going to pretend what just happened didn’t happen and expect him to do the same?

The shaky resolve in her features and posture certainly make it look that way.

Ben can’t believe it. He has to argue with himself over whether to push her harder like he wants to, or drop it and play along.

_It could go well. She could listen, remember everything, and agree to go back with me on the spot._

_It could also blow up in my face. I could push her too far, reveal too much, and make her decide that I’m too crazy to associate with. Ruin everything on day four._

She’s already on edge. She’s clearly scared of whatever she saw or felt. That might’ve even started in the garage, now that he thinks of it, with the tense way she was acting. She could’ve sensed something early on and been quietly dealing with it this whole time. That doesn’t bode well.

Ben can’t do it. It’s too risky. He pushes down his frustration. “… Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, no problem,” she smiles, casually wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Then she sighs and forces a little laugh, like all the messy emotions are gone and the sun is shining again. Like she didn’t just possibly see into another dimension. Nope— all good. Just like that.

_Wow,_ he thinks. That’s a whole different branch of the dysfunctional emotional regulation tree. 

She levels out, though, and looks at him again with a small smile. A real one.

“So… you _will_ actually be back, then?” she verifies hesitantly. “I’ll be seeing you? _”_

That genuine little sprout of hope in her voice combined with the simple fact that she just _recognized_ _him_ to some degree and won’t _admit it_ stirs something in him— something that grabs hold and takes over.

Without thinking, Ben brings a hand to her cheek and finally brushes the dark smudge away. It’s probably only because he’s caught her off guard that she allows him to do it, but it’s still incredibly satisfying. 

“Yes. As often as you’ll allow me, I think,” he tells her straight. “But you already know that. You feel it, too.” 

Ben spares her the burden of having to give a response by simply dropping his hand and walking away before she has the chance to form one.

As he drives home, Ben reflects on all the incredible, weird, and fascinating topics he’s learned about in his time here so far. New concepts, skills, vocabulary— so many wonderful things. He would think with all that new knowledge, his brain would be working at a higher level of functioning in order to keep processing it. He would think that maybe he’d be _less_ inclined to be absolutely, irrationally, hopelessly stupid. He would think he’d know better than to dramatically declare romantic (or at least _intimate_ ) intent to a girl he’s technically met twice whose life literally depends on him _not_ scaring her off.

There is at least one new useful piece of information that Ben has gathered that helps. It’s just a word— one simple, strong, and brilliantly effective word— but it seems to be the one and only appropriate thought left to have now.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> understanding, gentle, tall, also irrepressibly and incurably intense
> 
> "A Different Age" by Current Joys [ x](https://youtu.be/euz3nBdF2fA)


	4. a river that will never run home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: drinking

The door opens almost immediately after Rey’s knock. It’s her own door, but she doesn’t see why she should dig for her keys if she doesn’t need to. Her fingers went all but numb from cold on the walk home. 

Rose’s face is waiting on the other side, grinning. “Hey boo! How was class?”

“Oh— Rose. Hey,” Rey pushes inside, looking around. She was expecting Finn to be the one to answer. “Good, thanks.”

“And the kiddos?”

Rey laughs drily. “Extra restless. Jannah got bit today— she’s fine, though.”

“Ew. I could never work with little kids.” 

“This kid was twelve.”

“Oh.” Rose shivers, grimacing. “Yikes.”

“Where’s Finn?”

“With Poe. Apparently some tennis player injured his shoulder and Poe wanted to show him how he treated it or something. I don’t know— I wasn’t really listening, to be honest. He let me in, though.”

Rey drops her stuff by the couch and starts shrugging off her coat. “When was this?”

“Like an hour ago,” Rose says from somewhere in the kitchen. The sound of cabinets opening and closing follows. 

“You’ve been waiting here alone for an hour?”

“Yeah,” Rose sighs. “I ate the rest of your guys’ hummus. Sorry."

“It’s fine,” Rey laughs. “But is Finn still coming tonight? Are we still going?”

“ _God_ , yes,” Rose says emphatically. “We have to. Next weekend everyone’s going to be cramming for finals and then people start leaving for break! This is the last full-out weekend we have until, like, New Years, probably.” There’s a sudden loud cacophony of glass clattering against tile. Nothing shatters. Rose swears quietly, then calls with confidence, “I’m good! I’m good.”

Rey rolls her eyes and heads for the kitchen. “But Finn?”

“Said they’d meet us there.”

“What, both of them?”

“Think so.”

“Oh— okay. That works, I guess.”

“Yep! And… here you go.” Rose carefully slides a shot of vodka down the counter, giving Rey a hilariously evil-looking smile. Rey raises an eyebrow, then sighs and grabs it. Rose’s face lights up. “Wait, really?”

_Really._ She’s never wanted to drink so badly in her life. 

Rey steels herself and raises her glass to Rose, who scrambles to grab her own. They softly clink the rims together, then knock the stuff back at the same time. Burns like hell. Absolutely disgusting.

“I can’t believe this!” Rose laughs maniacally afterwards, wiping her mouth. “What’s wrong with you?”

Rey does her best to smile in response. It feels weird, like her face doesn’t really want to do it. 

_I think I hallucinated a man into existence._

“Only the usual.” She jerks her chin at the bottle. “Come on, Tico.”

Rose shakes her head in disbelief, then pours a second round, which they again take simultaneously.

When Rose goes to the bathroom, Rey swiftly sneaks a third.

“This is insane,” Rose giggles in the doorway of the bedroom, watching Rey look around for clothes. “You never pre-game with me.”

“It’s your lucky day, then.”

“Oh! Oh! The jeans! Do the jeans!”

Rey, alarmed at first by Rose’s sudden urgency, whips around. The room doesn’t sway, but blurs at the edges quite nicely. “Huh?”

“With the mesh-y thingy and the zippers!” 

“Oh.” Rey follows Rose’s line of sight to the black jeans she’s talking about. She bought them when they went shopping like two full months ago and has still never worn them. _Yeah, sure, fuck it._ She grabs them from the floor and throws them on the center of the bed next to a tank top. Rose claps.

After quickly dressing, Rey tugs her bomber jacket from its hook on the door, drapes it over her arm, grabs her trusty backpack purse, and signals Rose.

“Let’s roll out.” 

“You look like a sexy spy,” Rose notes, following behind.

“What?” 

“All black makes everyone sexier,” she says, closing the apartment door behind them.

“No it _doesn’t,_ ” Rey protests with surprising vehemence, a gut response to the first person that popped into her head. She pushes the image away. Then, for Rose's sake, tones it down. “Well I mean, yeah. You know. Sometimes it does.”

Rose snorts, distracted by her phone, anyway. “Kaydel and Tallie are already there. Apparently they’re trying to win the pool table from the crew team.” She barks a delighted laugh. “I love our friends.”

Rey hopes to god that all of this isn’t about to make her feel worse. “I’ll call the Uber.”

She loves their friends, too— more than anything. But now, walking away from the safety of home, Rey is afraid that she might not have the energy to pretend to be her usual self for them. She might not be able to simply outrun the twisted feeling that’s been following her all week.

It wasn’t obvious in the beginning. In fact, it was completely unnoticeable at first. But, as the days ticked on, it became clearer and clearer that something new was there— that something had sunk its teeth in and settled in to stay without her noticing. No adequate word in her lexicon exists for it. The best way she can think of it is that, at her very core, Rey can’t stop feeling… disoriented. Constantly. Slightly off-balance, but all of the time.

Never enough to fully distract her from her life, but enough to make her feel hopelessly exhausted at the end of each day. It reminds her of anxiety, but it’s not. The feeling stays curled up at all times in the back of her mind and bristles there silently, hiding and waiting for something Rey can’t identify. 

This morning in Kanata’s, it flared up beyond just a feeling. It nearly knocked her over.

She’d been setting up tables before open when she randomly looked out the window and suddenly felt, in her _bones,_ that she’d never seen the street outside before. Ever. The little section of street she stares at for hours and hours at her post three days a week, the one with the post office and the crosswalk, the one that she could draw from memory? All gone in a blink, all completely foreign to her. 

She recognized the view again a snap later, but the experience remained terrifying. That first impression was just so absolute that she couldn’t shake it. It wasn’t just her being tired or ‘spacey’— for a split second, Rey genuinely did not know what she was looking at or where she was. 

She had to go sit down in the cafe’s little blindspot so that no one would bother her while she tried to recover. She doesn’t know what would’ve happened if someone had approached her in that moment— being so on edge, there’s a chance she might’ve fled the building or physically pushed back against anyone who got too close. Everyone and everything felt _wrong._

Sitting in that corner, hugging knees with her pulse hammering, the first and only place her mind went to was to, of all people, Han’s son.

Yes— the tall, rather tactless prick she just met, the one who looks at her like he can see into her skull and read her thoughts better than she can think them. And finds it amusing. _That_ guy. The guy that, for whatever reason, feels like a hallucination despite Rey knowing he can’t be.

It just got so confusing, with the way he acted yesterday— like he knew her. He did so without saying it with words or outwardly indicating it, but it was there, plain in his eyes. Rey could sense it. He really, truly thought he knew her. He looked so fucking sure of it that it must’ve made _her_ buy into it, too, in a brief moment of weakness. 

It was truly just a fast, freakish lapse in logic on her end— a lapse no doubt caused by extreme exhaustion. The short dip into delusion ended with her in overwhelmed tears— something she regrets letting happen, but mostly letting him _see._ Deeply, deeply regrets. 

She was downright mortified by it, but realizes now that it only happened because she’d already been driven to her mental breaking point that day. That’s why. The deeply unbalanced feeling that she’d been dealing with all week had simply chipped away too much of her strength to be able to deal with his confusing smolder-y shit at that point. And so something snapped. 

So, no. It had nothing to do with him, but of course _he_ doesn’t know that. Oh, no. No, instead Ben only became the first person to witness her cry in over a fucking year, then fucked off to no doubt make his own incorrect assumptions about it himself. She wants to scream when she thinks of all the dumb, untrue things he probably thinks now. He knows nothing.

The whole situation just really aggravates her. The man is aggravating overall— he’s consistently and uncomfortably intense, incredibly lacking in general self-awareness, and presumptuous as hell. So far, his presence has only brought confusion and stress in her life.

And yet it’s still him who she thought of this morning in Kanata’s. 

In the aftermath of the one of the most jarring things that’s ever happened to her, Rey’s mind didn’t go to Finn like it should’ve when seeking comfort. Not to Rose, either, or to any of her other friends. On instinct, it went straight to a stranger.

She thought of his face, summoned the image and the feeling of him in her mind, and held on to it tightly. It was as though something inside her thought it would make the terror and confusion more bearable. And… it worked. Thinking of him grounded her, if nothing else. Made her feel less alone. After she calmed down, she felt sort of sick. Guilty. It didn’t make any sense.

None of it makes sense. It’s why the concept of Ben Solo won’t stop gnawing at her. 

She refuses to believe that the gnawing is some kind of desire to be near him— if anything, it’s the anxiety of knowing at all times that _not_ seeing him will only make her confusion go unresolved. There’s a difference. He said he would come back, so, assuming he keeps his word, she’ll get her chance to resolve it. 

Not that she’ll admit any of this when she sees him, of course— Rey would probably die of embarrassment if he knew how often she actually thinks of him. 

If she’s honest with herself, it didn’t start because of the weirdness at Ace’s yesterday. It started way before that— it started the day he came into Kanata’s. Bit by bit, he slowly started occupying the static in her mind, filling all the cracks and pauses between thoughts. Quietly, though. They’re not active thoughts— not all of them. Mostly she just feels him like a constant presence in her mind, a strong and silent awareness that she can’t turn off. 

Rey is well aware of how absurd it is. She doesn’t even _know_ the man— when it first started, she’d literally only taken his coffee order one time. Their brief conversation was utterly meaningless. He still found a way within that window to do what he does best and make her feel uncomfortably see-through, but the fact remains: it was one incredibly average interaction.

And yet now when she closes her eyes, Rey will often see him. Random, unfamiliar fragments of him— like someone else’s chopped-up daydreams broadcasted to her over weak satellite. Afterwards, she can never quite recall what it was that she saw. She just knows that she saw _something._ It’s like trying to piece together a forgotten dream, one that keeps dissolving from memory the more she becomes aware of it. 

It makes feeling sane so much harder, and feeling that she’s somehow making him up in her head more and more likely.

She’s not sure if she can actually blame Ben Solo for this, but regardless— Rey didn’t sign up for it.

So far, the vodka has helped this horrible _thinking_ phenomenon, although not totally obliterated it. Being with Rose and Kaydel and Tallie will help, at least. Soon they’ll be in a loud bar surrounded by friends and distraction, and hopefully Rey can drink to her heart’s content without anyone wanting to talk to her that much.

The Hose is wildly crowded, as it generally is on Fridays. Lots of people linger outside, chatting, their breath visible in the air under the street lights. It’s freezing when they step out of their Uber, but Rey barely feels it. 

The crowd is dense inside, making the temperature infinitely warmer. The guy at the front doesn’t stop them for their IDs, recognizing them from their many, many nights here before. Rey always makes sure to bring her fake, anyway— depending on who’s working, the bartender still asks for it sometimes.

Three of the big TVs are replaying some unimportant sports game, while the rest play MTV music videos from the 90s. The music is loud, but not totally overwhelming. The loudest noises are coming from the people in the back where the games and pool tables are.

“There they are!”

“Rey! Rose! Oh, thank god,” a drunk voice wails dramatically. A very pink-cheeked Kaydel Ko Connix hops off her seat at front section of the bar to give massive hugs to Rey and then Rose. “We were so _close._ You should’ve been there, Rey. You would’ve shown those… those… _chauvinistic_ assholes.”

Rey shrugs, smiling. “I mean, I still could, if you want— if you can get us in.”

“Yeah?” Tallie perks up, not nearly as drunk as Kaydel but also a little pink in the cheeks. She gives Rey and Rose each quick hugs hello, too. “Really, Rey?”

“Tonight, yeah. I’m down. Sure.” Could be fun, give her something simple to focus on.

“Yes!” Kaydel throws her arms up, sending her long blonde braids swinging. “Secret weapon! Locked and loaded! Redemption, girls. I can taste it.”

Kaydel starts game-planning with Tallie on how to get themselves another slot in the unofficial billiards tournament that’s always running on busy nights. Tallie just got dumped by a guy on the crew team recently, if Rey remembers correctly— this is probably personal, to some degree. It’s only her duty as a good friend to help. 

Rey stands alone for a moment as Rose leans over the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention. In the brief respite, she freezes. 

_He’s here._

Without looking, Rey just knows it. He’s here, right now. Ben.

It takes her only a second to locate him. He’s sitting at the very far end of the bar, listening to the person beside him, dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans. The angle he’s turned leaves Rey his profile to study undisturbed, albeit from a ways away through a crowd.

He really is kind of an odd-looking man, but not in a bad way— just different. It’s in the way that some of his angles and features feel incongruous, then work together anyway. Sort of perfectly, actually. The sharply contrasting skin and hair. The long, broad nose. Deep eyes. She can see the Han in him, especially from a distance.

A prickly warmth settles heavy over her. It’s an old, deep feeling. Leagues more ancient than deja vu.

That’s when his eyes shift and find her in the cluster of the entryway. His head doesn’t even turn in her direction, he just _looks_ and his gaze clicks perfectly into place. _Oh god._ Did he know she was staring at him that whole time?

Rey feels her face get hot and looks over for Rose, but she’s deep in conversation with the bartender.

“Tallie,” she interrupts. “Tallie, can you tell Rose I’ll be right back if she asks?”

“Sure thing, boss.”

“Thanks.”

A little light-headed, Rey does the only thing appropriate at this point. She starts making her way to the other end of the bar to where Ben Solo is waiting for her. 

He smiles as she gets closer, turning on his barstool to face her.

“You,” she says first with her head held high, keeping it forcibly pleasant.

“Me,” he admits. 

It stresses her out, how natural he’s acting. He doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t know why, but he just doesn’t belong here. It’s messing with the balance of the place. Of everything.

_He’s probably been coming here longer than you have. Chill out._

His eyes skip curiously down her figure and then up to her face again, not at all in a creepy or sexual way, but in a way that makes her blush all the same.

She shifts all her weight to one side and crosses her arms. “So did your steering wheel fix itself, or are you waiting until you total your car to take care of it?

He ignores the accusatory tone. “I was thinking of bringing it in Monday or Tuesday.”

“Bring it Tuesday.”

“Oh? Why?”

“Han’s never completely awake on Mondays and you want to get your money’s worth.”

Ben’s face falls slightly at the mention of Han and Rey feels her heart contract with it. The weight of guilt presses in on her for some reason. 

“Plus,” she tacks on swiftly, “you’re definitely going to distract him, so I should be there to pick up the slack. I’m there for longer on Tuesdays.”

He studies her face for a moment in that inappropriately personal-feeling way, then nods once, tersely.

“Then I’ll bring it Tuesday.”

Rey tries not to smile, but something about the way he says it is just funny. She’s seeing something now that she can’t believe she didn’t see earlier. 

Ben is honestly pretty fucking awkward. 

She used to think he was just smug, but what she thought was smugness before might’ve actually been _this_. It might’ve just him trying and not quite getting it right— but being so clueless and straight-faced about it that he came off an asshole. It’s unexpected, for a guy who looks like he does. That’s likely why it took her until now to see. 

She wonders if he even realizes it. Probably not. He seems too anxious and preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice. It’s actually kind of endearing.

“Good.” Her own anxious grip on her arm loosens. “I know your dad will be happy to see you.”

He gives her a small smile.

“Sorry?” an accented scoff comes from her left. Sitting on the barstool beside Ben is another man, blatantly listening to their conversation. He’s around the same age, long and lean with pale skin and bright copper hair. He stares at Ben with a dumbfounded expression. “You’re seeing your dad?”

Ben looks at him like he forgot he was there, a cross of annoyance and wariness on his face. “Yeah. Kind of.”

“Okay— so first you quit your job out of nowhere, and now you’re speaking to your _father_ again?”

“You quit your job?” Rey squeaks in surprise before she can stop herself. It’s really none of her business, but he literally just told her yesterday that he was a lawyer. Now she can’t help but wonder what happened— is he okay? Did it have to do with Han?

“Uh, yeah,” he tells Rey quickly, trying to balance both her and his friend’s inquiries. “I did. Couple days ago.” Then he looks to his friend, one hand stretched out like trying to calm an upset animal. “Hux, look. I’ll explain later, alright? There’s a lot.”

“ _‘There’s a lot,’_ ” Hux repeats with distaste. He’s teasing, but in a way that’s more savage than fun or friendly. Well, maybe fun for him. She gets the feeling he’s like this a lot. “Are you kidding? This is insane— who even are you? Why wouldn’t you mention that? Who am I to you, hm?”

Even though Hux is mostly kidding, Ben looks trapped by it— lost for words. And, despite the fact that Ben is grown-ass man probably a good decade older than her, Rey finds herself feeling pissed off and oddly protective.

“Come on,” she says to Hux. “It’s Friday, you’re at the bar, everything’s fine. Chill out.”

Hux waves her off and leans harder into the frozen-in-processing Ben. “Hello? Are you mute now? Perhaps possessed?”He turns to Rey with a dumb grin, clearly just messing with both of them now and enjoying it. “I think this man might be legitimately fucking possessed.”

Rey bites down her retort and instead forces herself to give a little laugh. _Nice thoughts nice thoughts nice thoughts._

“Wow.” She gives her words a light, teasing quality as she glances over at Ben. “Are all your friends this nice, Ben?”

“ _Ben?!”_ Hux howls incredulously, slapping the bar top with an open palm. It startles her and even some of the people around them. “ _What?_ Did she just call you _Ben?!”_

Ben rubs his face with both hands, then pushes them back through his hair with a wince. Thinking, stalling. Rey stays very still, unsure of what to think or do about this. 

_Isn’t that his name?_

“Holy shit. You have _not_ been straight with me, my friend,” Hux says, then turns to Rey again, this time like she’s infinitely more interesting. “Okay. What’s actually going on here? Who are you?”

“Rey, you don’t have to—” Ben starts.

But something snaps. “I’m Rey Johnson, who the fuck are you?”

“No. Nuh-uh, sweetie. Are you even old enough to be in here?” he laughs hysterically, looking between the two of them. “What the fuck, Ren? You didn’t tell me we were specifically here to cradle rob. I would’ve brought some candy.”

Rey feels her face burn. She might punch this guy. She shouldn’t, but she really might.

“Alright, okay. Knock it off.” Ben’s voice is hard and dark.

Hux keeps laughing, clutching his stomach. One look at Ben’s face tells Rey that he’s torn between bashing the guy’s head against the bar or breaking his arm. The violence in his eyes actually scares her for a heartbeat. She sees past his annoyance, right down into the well of rage underneath. It goes deep. Unthinkably deep. He’s not even tapping into a fraction of it. 

Ben looks away from Hux, who is still on his bullshit, sensing Rey’s eyes on him. His expression softens when he sees hers, but Rey already saw enough. Rey saw.

He could seriously hurt someone if he wanted to. He’s easily capable of it. He’s done it before.

“Are these guys bothering you, Rey?” Rose’s interrupts them from behind as she steps up beside Rey, scowling at both of the men. 

“No,” Rey says, letting out a shaky breath. She accepts the drink Rose hands her with tense hands and a smile, shifting her eyes towards Hux.

Rose sees this. “Hey, you. Is there a problem?”

“No problem at all, sweetheart,” he bats his eyelashes at her a couple times, his shoulders still shaking with repressed laughter. 

_Oh, shit._ Rey can feel it coming and holds her breath. Rose glances at her, checking for a sign. Rey deliberately gives none. With the go-ahead, Rose turns back to Hux and slides forward, getting face-to-face with him.

“Alright.”

She uses the lower rungs of his barstool like a ladder, stepping up and easily balancing so that she stands a couple of inches above his eye level. With the high ground, she swallows down the dregs of her drink, slams it down on the bar, then uses the hand to clap him on the shoulder. Hard.

She leans in and crowds him back against the column on his other side. Her voice drops to a deadly serious pitch, each of her words cold and deliberate.

“Call me or one of my friends ‘sweetheart’ again and I’ll slap you so hard you’ll see your next fucking life, you stale, stuck-up piece of Wonder bread. I see the daddy issues in your eyes. I see how badly you want respect. You think wearing Tom Ford everything is going to do that for you here? Hm? Or whatever god-awful overpriced cologne that is? I see how hard you’re trying, you _sad,_ sad boy. I see how much you care. Honestly, I’d keep going but I can sense how fragile you really are and I don’t want to see you cry. So don’t be a dick. Don’t fuck with my friends. Don’t try me.”

Hux’s self-satisfied smirk has dropped clean off his face. 

Satisfied, Rose gracefully hops down from his stool and steps back. She tosses her hair around for volume, unbothered.

“I see,” Hux says blankly.

Rose smiles, smoothing her bangs as she prepares to flounce away. “Yep.”

“Right. Okay.” He makes an awkward little snapping gesture with his fingers in his lap before nodding to himself. Then he calls, “Can I buy you a drink, then?”

The corner of Rose’s mouth pulls into an incredulous half-smile as she turns. She looks to Rey, who just gives a tiny shrug, trying not to laugh. 

“Well, sure,” she answers him sweetly, the very vision of an angel. “Why shouldn’t you?”

Rey moves over to make room and turns to Ben, who’s already watching her with an odd look on his face.

“Not expecting that?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. “You look a little confused there.”

“Do I?” he says vaguely, staring. His eyes are soft, slightly hazed-over. Like he’s seeing more than what’s really there. It’s still strange, but she finds she doesn’t mind it as much anymore. Maybe she’s adjusting. 

“I feel like you need better friends. I’m sure that one’s usually lovely, though.”

“Is that how you feel?”

Rey lifts an eyebrow and takes a long sip of her drink, simply deigning not to answer.

_I feel like you followed me out of a dream. I feel strange, strange, strange._

“You know— it’s freaky, the way you look at me sometimes,” she informs him.

He tilts his head, almost smiling. “Really? In what way?”

“What, you don’t ‘ _feel it, too?’”_ she quotes him, feeling bold. 

His non-smile twitches. “Just asking what you mean.” 

Rey rolls her eyes, walking to his other side to get away from Rose and Hux’s distracting banter. He turns with her, watching her with unabashed amusement. She decides it’s not worth getting angry over and allows it.

“You look at me like you know what’s in my brain and I don’t,” she explains. “And it’s freaky.”

“I’ll try to stop that.”

“Thank you,” she gestures like, S _ee? Was that so hard?_ “I appreciate it.”

“I said I’ll try,” he says with a laugh, finally breaking into truest, widest grin she’s gotten from him so far. 

It pushes up his cheeks, creases the corners of his eyes, reveals the few of his teeth that aren’t perfectly straight. It all lends an unexpectedly human element to him. For her own insane reasons, Rey hasn’t been thinking of him as entirely real, so the honest character in these little details— she just isn’t prepared for it. She has to push down a weird flutter. He definitely hasn’t smiled like this around her before. She would’ve remembered his smile being this… cute?

_Stop. Stop stop stop._

“So why did your friend flip out like that when I called you Ben? Is that not your name?”

“No,” he says, smile fading. “It is. It’s just— up until recently, I went by a different… alias.”

“An alias? Really? Why?”

He studies her, thinking. He’s not even doing the annoying mind-reading thing they just talked about, but regardless— whenever he looks at her, even just normally, she swears it’s like he’s seeing right to her core. It’s uncomfortable. Makes her feel naked. 

It’s not something she would ever allow if she could choose, but Rey is realizing now that, with Ben, she can’t. She can’t just choose to not let him. He’s not doing it on purpose, either— she can at least see that now. He’s not toying with her. This is just how it is. This is just how it feels. 

“It’s complicated,” he answers finally.

“Oh,” Rey says down to her glass, face warm. “That’s fine.”

He doesn’t owe her an explanation. He’s basically still a stranger. She met him yesterday. She’d do well to remember that.

“I kind of thought you were going to punch Hux for a second there,” Ben admits out of the blue.

Her head snaps back up immediately, her entire train of thought instantly derailed. She scoffs. “What? I thought _you_ were going to punch him.” _Or worse, honestly._ "He’s _your_ friend, isn’t he?”

Ben shrugs. “Kind of. And I mean, I wanted to. Didn’t you?”

“No,” she outright lies. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know, you looked angry.”

“No, _you_ looked angry.”

“Didn’t say I wasn’t.”

She watches his face for some sign of the scariness she saw before, but it’s gone now. Just a strange sort of beauty she can’t stop trying to make sense of, even when she tells herself to fucking stop.

“Well, I don’t know where you come from, but where _I_ come from, normal people can’t just impulsively hit other people when they’re angry. Not without consequences, at least.”

“So you _were_ angry.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Thank you.”

“That isn’t a good thing, Ben.”

He hums. “Isn’t incorrigible just determined?”

“It certainly is not.”

He narrows his eyes. “Have you ever punched someone?”

“Why, would you like to experience it?” 

With her drink finished, Rey quickly reaches past him to slide her empty glass onto the bar top. She can’t help noticing— he smells like leather and salt water and electricity, if those things had a scent. Like power. It’s incredibly specific. It tickles something buried in her memory and she has to suppress a shiver. She has to keep moving.

She deliberately avoids meeting his eye as she pulls back, but is hyperaware of every passing point of contact and inch of space between them. She shouldn’t have got this close. Is this normal? His skin is hot. Is skin supposed to be that hot?

Ben ignores her previous question, as he likes to do. He waits until she’s done and faces him again, then asks curiously, “Do your friends know about Ace’s? About Han?”

Rey goes still, an alarm slowly starting up in her head. She quickly glances over at Rose. She’s deep into some debate with Hux. Both look completely absorbed. 

Her eyes slide back to Ben, cautious. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he’s adopted you, hasn’t he?” he shrugs, like it’s the most casual assessment in the world. “You’re not just his employee.”

_It’s none of your fucking business,_ she wants to hiss. But it kind of is, isn’t it? It’s his family, apparently— not that they ever fucking mentioned him to her before yesterday. Rey swallows.

“Han hasn’t _adopted_ me. But yes, he and Leia have helped me out over the years. And _no,_ my friends don’t really know about it, so I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t bring it up.”

“Leia,” Ben repeats numbly.

“Yeah. Ace’s was my first real job. I hung out there all the time, even when I wasn’t working. Han let me. He kind of became my mentor after all that time together. Leia, too, later. They helped me emancipate myself a few years ago, among other stuff. Got me out of some pretty rough spots before that. Helped me set up the whole college deal, that kind of thing.” Rey looks down, scuffing the ground with the heel of her boot. “I owe them a lot, actually. Probably everything.”

He doesn’t respond.

Rey eventually looks back up, frowning. “Ben?”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

She’s not sure why she just told him all of that, but now she feels sick about it and his blank reaction isn’t helping.

“My friends don’t really know that I, you know… ever needed that kind of help in the first place. About any of that stuff, actually. So…” _This is fucking humiliating._ “If you talk them, could you please not say anything? Han is just my boss to them. Okay?”

“What do you mean, they don’t know? They’re your friends. Hasn’t it been years?”

Rey clenches and unclenches her fists at her sides. It’s extremely difficult to tell him any of this and now he’s just demanding more like it’s nothing. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, _but—_ if you must know, I met all of them in college. After I got my shit straight. So…” _There_.

“So they don’t know anything about you? About who you were before?”

“Of course they know me— I am who I am now.”

“But just the parts you like,” he guesses, like it’s easy to put together. “And you killed the rest. Right?”

Rey can’t even think of an adequate response. It takes her a second to even really absorb what he’s just said to her. Then her blood starts to boil in her veins.

He suddenly looks tired. “Yeah,” he sighs. “That doesn’t work.”

_Mother. Fucker._

“Thanks so much for the insight,” she says through her teeth, barely holding on. “I’ll be sure to take it into consideration.”

She turns and starts walking away, scanning the vicinity for Kaydel or Tallie or anyone else she knows who she could escape to. She’s only made it a few yards from the bar when she’s pulled back by a hand around her upper arm.

He sure like to grab her, doesn’t he? She’s not playing around this time. 

“Don’t _touch_ me,” she snarls.

He lets go with a surprised jolt, but doesn’t give up. “I’m sorry. Just— please.”

“Please _what?”_

“I won’t give you any more life advice, I just want to talk you. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You have some real nerve— you don’t know me.”

“Well, yeah,” he says flatly, edging on sarcastic. “Sounds like no one does.”

Her mouth drops open. She truly considers slapping him. “What, but _you_ do?”

He grins, which makes it so much worse. “I didn’t say that.”

“You literally just tried to fucking psychoanalyze me!”

“Okay— okay, I get it. I’m sorry,” he says, sounding more genuine now. “I just don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“Why do you care?” she laughs. It sounds absurd, borderline deranged. Her body is too small to contain all of her fury— it’s forcing its way out through strange, unhinged means. “Why do you even fucking care about me?”

She regrets the words as soon as they leave her mouth. It instantly neutralizes the rage so that Rey is just left standing there— silent, shocked, and terrified of the look on Ben’s face. 

“Don’t answer that,” she says quickly the second she finds her voice again. “Don’t.”

“…Why not?” 

_Fuck._

People bump and brush by them, but Ben’s eyes stayed locked on her. Waiting. The air feels thicker. The voices of the people around them muffle down, become individually indistinguishable. 

“Why not, Rey?” he asks again, low and clear. It feels like they’re alone now.

She shakes her head. Her awareness feels blurred. Unreal. Everything but what’s in front of her is as good as its shape and color. She could make it stop if she focused, but she doesn’t.

“Do you think you know?” he presses.

_Yes._

“No.” 

He doesn’t let up. His eyes keep searching her face for a tell. There’s something otherworldly about his beauty, she can’t help but think. Something more delicate than she noticed before.

Then he dials back. His shoulders relax, his voice turns softer. “Okay. It’s okay.”

It should freak her out how intimate this moment feels, and it does, to some degree. But what’s actually, truly freaking her out right now is the way it feels underneath that.

It’s like being perched on the ledge of a chasm, one foot dangling over total faceless chaos. Her stomach flips and flutters like she’s looking down from a killing height. Her heart is beating with more force right now than it has any earthly reason to. Intrinsically she knows— whatever lies beneath is beyond her understanding, and it’s dangerous.

She doesn’t look away from him. Seeing him in real time, being reassured of the fact that he’s real— it’s the only thing making her less afraid of the fall.

If she turned her gaze away to the bar around them now… would she still recognize it? Or would it be foreign to her, the way Kanata’s was this morning? Would she be lost in her own home?

Would that matter so much as long as he was there?

That’s when somebody accidentally bumps into Rey from behind, sending her stumbling forward a foot or two.

Ben is there to catch and steady her, hands on her shoulders. He takes them away as soon as she’s okay, but she can’t stop feeling it even after they're gone. Skin on skin. Hands, warm and dry. Quiet energy crackling in all the spaces between. An inhuman ache in her chest.

The very pain of it is what ultimately pulls her out of the quicksand of her own thoughts.

_Holy shit._

Is she really _that_ drunk?

_No. No. No._

This can’t happen. This has to stop. She had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but it clearly has. She can’t have feelings for a delusion. She can’t have feelings at all. Period. She feels sick all of a sudden, but she has to tell him. 

“Ben— listen,” she starts, but her voice gives out. He steps closer, carefully so as to be sure not to touch her, like she’d asked. Her heart gives a painful squeeze. She swallows and tries again. “I didn’t think that I’d… I just— I just think I should tell you. I’m with someone.”

Apart from a subtly confused tilt of the head, Ben’s expression doesn’t change. She wants to die, having to say it again to his face, but she does. 

“Ben, I’m saying I have a—”

A pair of arms wrap around her waist from behind and lift her into the air, cutting off her words. She yelps and giggles on impulse as the bar starts to spin around her. She thinks to tuck in her feet at the last second so as not to kick the shins of every single unsuspecting person standing around her.

She recognizes the feel of his signature leather jacket, the timbre of his laugh. “Finn!” she complains, grinning.

He presses short kisses to the side of her neck, cheek, and temple in rapid succession.

“Hey peanut,” he says simply, letting her down with a grin. He smells strongly of tequila. “I like the pants. They look better on you than they did on the floor for two months.”

“Thank you,” she says, doing a half-assed little curtsy. She feels off-balance in more ways than one. A second ago she thought she was going to cry and now this. Total emotional whiplash. “Rose made me.”

“Rose made you what?” Rose’s voice calls crossly from her seat at the bar. “Made you dress well?”

“Yes, actually. I was just thinking about how I was going to thank you,” Rey calls back, laying it on thick. “I was thinking forgiveness of your hummus debt.” 

Rose just sticks her tongue out.

Sometimes Rey doesn’t know how she does it so well— pulling lightness and normality out of thin air. She feels like she might pass out.

“I wasn’t sure you were really coming,” Rey admits, turning back to Finn. She puts a hand on his arm, mostly for stability. 

He notices and slides his hands around her waist, frowning. “Didn’t I say I would?”

“Yeah. Dunno. Still.”

He just pulls her closer until she’s pressed against him, cheek smushed against his chest. It’s nice. The pressure is comforting. The fact that he was already drinking if not drunk upon arrival doesn’t escape her, though. He and Poe must’ve gone drinking before they even came here.

“Rey!” Poe’s voice shouts triumphantly. He extricates himself from a very clingy Kaydel and barrels towards them, beaming. Finn doesn’t let go and she’s glad. She might fall over. “My favorite! Your boy here popped a joint back in place today— you should be proud. The guy screamed like a little bitch, but still. He did it! And then—” 

Then he’s instantly distracted by something on his phone, abruptly dropping out of the conversation. He does that a lot.

“You don’t have your license yet,” Rey muffles into Finn’s jacket. “That could’ve ended really bad. Like, lawsuit bad.”

“But it didn’t.”

Rey rolls her eyes and tilts her head up. “One day that excuse won’t work, you know.”

“Until then,” he grins, then gives her one last extra-tight squeeze with a kiss before letting her go. She’s surprised when his hand casually but immediately wraps around her waist from again, this time from the side. He’s not normally that touchy, at least not continuously. It’s not his style. Then she sees who he’s looking at and her stomach drops. “Hey,” he says. “I’m Finn.”

She makes herself look.

Ben is still standing there, mostly the same as she left him. Only his expression has changed, in the way that he doesn’t really have one anymore. Apart from a slight flush in his face, he’s blank. Neutral. Unreadable. 

“Ben,” Ben replies cordially.

“Good to meet you.”

“You, too.”

She feels Finn look to her, waiting.

“Oh— um, I know Ben from the shop,” she explains, hating the way this feels weird and scuzzy. It shouldn’t. She’s telling the truth. “He’s Han’s son— the owner. The owner’s son.”

“Ohhh,” Finn nods up and down, smiling. His hand relaxes around her waist. “Very cool.”

Rey makes herself address Ben like a normal human being— because this _is_ normal. “Finn’s my boyfriend.”

“Ohhh,” Ben nods politely in turn, subtly copying the uncharacteristically ‘chill’ way Finn did it. 

It’s not obvious, but enough so that Rey can tell that he’s mocking him. Or maybe both of them. She can’t tell. Finn doesn’t catch it, luckily. She still shoots a glare at Ben so venomous it ought to physically hurt. He just throws back an exaggeratedly innocent _‘what?_ ’ look in return.

_Dick,_ she thinks. He smiles as though he heard it.

But, somewhere very deep inside, Rey could cry with relief. Some part of her honestly expected Ben to go cold on her once he knew about Finn; she feared that he’d become uninterested once he realized he couldn’t ‘have’ her in that way _._ The idea of him not being around or him not wanting to know her in any capacity makes her more upset than she’d like to admit. She’s not sure when the fuck she decided this, but Rey still wants to know Ben Solo.

“We’re in!” Tallie’s voice exclaims from somewhere close by. Then Rey sees her, weaving through other clusters of people to get to theirs. She gets to Rey and smiles. “We’re in, we’re playing. Well, almost. We’re next game.”

“Wait,” Poe says, lifting his head and tucking his phone away. “Pool?”

“Yeah, Rey’s gonna play!” Rose pitches in, rushing over from the bar upon hearing the news. Mr. Wonder bread follows a few steps behind.

“No way,” Finn says. “This’ll be good. Who’s she playing? Do we know them?”

“Don’t know,” Tallie says. “Their game isn’t over yet.”

“I’m going over now,” Poe announces, looking around for takers. “I’m tired of standing around in the middle of this fucking room.”

Everyone sort of looks at each other and nods and shrugs in general agreement.

“You guys should come with us,” Rose says to both Hux and Ben, ever the kind, thoughtful soul that she is. “It’s one of my life’s most sacred pleasures, watching Rey totally demolish cocky assholes at bar sports. Will you come?”

“Absolutely,” Hux answers for the both of them, only because Ben doesn’t say anything at all. “I do enjoy a good demolition.”

Rose smiles up at him. “Good.”

Rey will have to ask her about _that_ later.

The group collectively starts shuffling to the back room. Along one wall is a row of booths, and along the opposite, a row of old-school video games. In the center of the room are the two tables surrounded by people standing, talking, and watching. The far corner has the door that leads to the outdoor patio, making the area busy with people going in and out.

Everyone immediately gravitates towards the booths, the most out-of-the-way area from the action. Poe pulls Rey to hang towards the back while everyone makes their way over.

“Hey— wanted to ask. Do you have Evie’s number?”

What little joy left in Rey’s face likely drops right out of it. She stops dead in her tracks, forcing him to, as well. Finn takes one look at them and knows enough to leave them the fuck alone and keep on walking.

“Poe. Who dropped?” she demands. This man is thirty-three years old and a goddamn administrator. He gets _paid,_ for christ’s sake. And yet Rey is still the one constantly cleaning up messes at the center. “Not you, right?

“No, not me. Er, no one, technically. It’s really my fault. Aaron told me like a week ago that he couldn’t—”

“Did you ask Jannah?”

“Well, funny you say that, because—”

“Because you assumed you could just ask her to fill in at the last second like always but didn’t check the schedule ahead of time to see she’s going to be out of state all week?” She raises her eyebrows.

He tries to look ashamed. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Alright. What about Nodin?”

“He was the first I asked. Working.”

“Beaumont?”

“School thing.”

“Larma?”

He tilts his head back and pouts. “You know I can’t ask her.”

“And why not?”

“…She hates me,” he pouts.

“Yeah, I know— she can never do weekends, I just wanted to hear you say that.”

Poe scowls. “Ha-ha. I asked the boss, though. Or, I told her the situation.”

“And?”

“And she said I’ll have to make the cancellation calls to all the parents, myself, if I can’t find a replacement before the twenty-four hour mark.”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah. I would’ve already asked Evie, but she’s the newest and I still haven’t gotten—”

“Poe. She can’t. I already know she can’t.” The newest addition to their volunteer staff is on a backpacking trip as they speak; she told Rey all about it during their last shift together.

“Are you sure?” He sighs when Rey nods. “Fuck.”

Rey could honestly slap him right now. The aquarium trip is one of the biggest excursions the kids go on every year and he just single-handedly fucked it up. Two of her favorite kids (not that she has favorites) have been excited all week. The older ones always act like they’re too cool for it, but she knows they like getting out of the rec center and will be seriously disappointed.

“Yeah, this sucks.” She sighs, trying to think of any other solutions and coming up short. “We would literally be fine by ourselves, we could handle it— we just have to meet the ratio. There’s really no one who can chaperone for one day? At all?”

“I can do it.”

Rey and Poe, who had been both been sort of shuffling in place in thought with their heads down, both startle and look up.

Ben is standing there, casually big as ever with his hands awkwardly in his pockets. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude. I just couldn’t listen to him try to flirt anymore,” he nods to Hux in one of the booths, “so I came over here and I just— I heard. Sorry. But yeah, I could do it.”

“I’m sorry, who are you again?” Poe laughs a little. He must’ve seen her and Finn talking to him earlier, but they never spoke.

“I’m Ben.”

“Poe,” Poe offers, extending his hand. Rey watches them shake hands, too confused about what the hell is going on to have anything to say about it. “Uh, well— thank you, Ben, but this is a work thing.”

“I can still help out,” Ben says. “If possible. Sounds like you just need a fill-in.”

“Yeah, but I don’t really think you understand what we’re talking about. What this entails.”

“So then tell me. What does it entail?”

Poe laughs, like Ben must be joking. Rey understands very well that Ben is not joking. 

“Well— kids, first off. About twelve of them. In a very large aquarium where you’re responsible for their safety and happiness and, oftentimes, amusement. About four hours of that, plus transportation.”

Ben nods throughout Poe’s explanation in comprehension, then once in decision when he’s done. “Yeah. I can do that.”

Poe laughs. “Look, your goodwill is great and all, but I still don’t think you quite understand. Have you ever even worked with kids before?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

Rey is watching Poe become concurrently more amused and more frustrated with each of Ben’s answers. “Okay. I’ll bite. How?”

“At a… camp. It trained kids of all ages. I lived and worked there for years. Up to my early twenties.”

“Trained kids?” Poe says. “For what?”

“You know,” Ben shrugs. “Life. And… self-defense, I guess.”

“A self-defense camp?”

“There was a big spiritual aspect, too. Not that I particularly subscribed to it.”

“Huh. Interesting,” Poe says, politely baffled. “Well… listen. I appreciate the sentiment. And I mean no offense whatsoever when I say this, but I just don’t know you, you know? You’d have to go through a real interview at the office, anyway.”

“I can do a real interview.”

“But it would literally have to be tomorrow. The trip’s Sunday.”

“I’m free.”

“Pal, I’m talking heavy paperwork here. A potential background check, even. This isn’t a casual process.”

Ben shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

Poe shakes his head, at a loss. “I’m sorry— but why? Why do you want to do this?”

That’s the exact same thing Rey is wondering.

“Well… I just quit my job,” Ben explains tentatively, frowning at the ground in focus. Rey can sense his anxiety under the surface in a way she couldn’t before. “I guess you could say I didn’t like who it made me. And since I don’t really have much to do now, I figure maybe I could choose something… else. Something better.”

For some reason, the simple explanation rocks Rey to her core. She tries to process it. 

Her eyes fall on the sunken, bluish bags under his eyes and, for the first time, wonders what put them there. It might feel like Ben Solo came out of nowhere to her, but maybe that’s because something pushed him here. The impression she got from Hux earlier is that he’s changing a lot of things— quitting his corporate job, reconnecting with his father, who knows what else she doesn’t know about. He’s struggling. He’s struggling, but he’s trying. He’s trying to be better. Rey knows what that’s like.

“Well fuck,” Poe mutters to himself. “That’s a good answer.” 

He looks Ben up and down with fresh eyes, struggling to form a judgement. She can feel how Poe could honestly go either way, wringing his hands like that. Finally he drops them and sighs.

“I really appreciate it, man, I do. But you’ve got to understand what a risk this would be for me. It’s nothing personal or anything, but I just don’t know you. That’s all it is. I swear. Hiring strangers from bars to—”

“I can vouch for him,” Rey interrupts. It surprises everyone, including herself. They both look at her, confused.

Poe laughs uncomfortably, then grabs her arm to turn them both away. 

“Just a second,” he smiles to Ben. Once their back are turned to him, Poe whispers to her in a hiss, “The fuck you mean you can _vouch_ for him?”

“I mean I can vouch for him,” she repeats stubbornly. “I know him better than you, Poe. He’s good. Trust me. Plus, Amilyn will determine that officially, anyway, won’t she? It’s not like you can actually hire him yourself.”

“Yeah,” he whines, offended, “not with paperwork, but volunteers generally always get through, which is why I need to make sure this guy is—”

“He is. He’s good.” 

“But how do you _know_ that?”

“I told you, I know him— he’s my boss’s son. He comes to the garage. I know he’s a little weird, but I’m telling you he’s good. You can tell Amilyn I said so if you don’t want to be held responsible. I’ll take responsibility for him.”

Poe frowns, looking at her funny. “You will?”

Rey rolls her eyes. “You fucked up, Poe, here’s your solution. Are you gonna take it?”

Poe glances over his shoulder at Ben, then back to her. “Fine.”

They turn back.

“Okay, my new friend Ben,” Poe claps. Decided. “Let’s do it. Let me text our boss right now and see when she wants you to come in tomorrow— she’s always there on Saturdays, don’t worry. She’ll be pissed that I didn’t find an existing volunteer replacement like I’m supposed to, but honestly we always need more volunteers so she won’t be mad at you, specifically. Just me.” He pulls out his phone, sighing. “But yeah, she’ll ask you some questions, make you fill out some paperwork, and then the two of us will most likely see you on Sunday. I was just testing you with that that background check talk— not that it’s not _possible,_ it is, but it’s super duper unlikely that she’ll find it necessary. Anyways, the place is the South Boston Rec Center, we work inside the youth program there. Community services, tutoring, arts enrichment programs, that sort of thing. Most days we stay there, but some Sundays we go on ‘outings’— field trips, basically— and when we do, we’re required by policy to have a one-to-five adult to kid ratio, thus the counselor replacement panic you’ve witnessed here tonight.” He pauses to comically catch his breath after so many words, then dives right back in. “And if you drive, definitely use the back parking lot when you go to the center. The main lot is full of nightmares— the elderly, sports teams constantly in and out, mom and their minivans. Seriously, just don’t even try, man. I’ll get your number in a sec so I can give you specifics about the actual excursion and meeting times and protocol and all that, but back to the general points— our youngest kid for the trip will be seven and he’s cool, I’d honestly worry more about the oldest ones if I were you. You have any experience getting teenagers to listen to you, Ben?”

Ben is taking the onslaught of information as best he can. Rey tries not to laugh watching him try to absorb it all. “Uh— yeah, well— I mean—”

“Good,” Poe claps him on the shoulder, then continues talking while guiding them towards the booths.

“Rey!” Tallie calls from the other side of the room, chalking up a pool cue. “We’re up!”

Rey starts to head over. Poe will be tipsy-monologuing to Ben about all the volunteer need-to-knows for a while. There’s a lot to learn, if Ben really wants to be a part of it. It’s best to leave them to it.

Still, she hesitates just before reaching the tables. She looks back at them, just once.

They’re standing closer to the booths now, and Ben isn’t listening to Poe anymore. He’s watching her leave, his eyes burning across the room to follow her. There’s a vague bewilderment there. His brows pulls in slightly, a question.

_‘Why?’_

He wants to know what she said to Poe. He wants to talk to her. He wants more.

Rey gives him a small smile. He halfway returns it, only more confused. Then she turns and goes.

Rey and Tallie crush the first pair of challengers— a couple of PoliSci majors from Simmons. They’re pretty nice, actually. Rey normally makes the game last a little longer when the people are nice, but tonight she can’t. Not by much, at least. There’s too much strange, restless energy in her body— she can’t hold back or be patient. It’s a little awkward when it’s over so fast, but they’re good sports about it. They get along so well that Tallie even exchanges Instas with them afterwards.

The next pair, however, are dickheads. They’re part of the crew team from UMass that Kaydel talked about earlier, Rey thinks. She doesn’t ask. The grosser one makes a lewd comment about Rey’s ass when as leans over the table for a shot; Rey takes it as a full pass to completely and utterly humiliate them. She sends them packing in under four minutes. The guys simply don’t know how to handle it. Rey is sweet as sugar the whole time, giving them absolutely nothing to antagonize. There’s not much they can do or say when she wins, though, so when they’re finally done trying to rationalize what happened, they leave in a huff. 

Tallie is on the floor laughing the second they’re out of earshot. Kaydel is trying to help her up, in stitches, too. Rose is filming the whole thing.

Rey feels empty. 

She leaves, pushing her pool cue into Hux’s chest as she walks past. It’ll be his responsibility now. “Have at it.” She’s gone before he can object.

“Where’s Finn?” she demands of Poe when she finds him. Then she frowns, looking around the empty booth. “And Ben?”

Without looking up from his phone, Poe answers, “Finn— outside, about to come back. Ben— I don’t know.”

“What? Did he leave?”

He glances up. “Pretty sure. I got the meeting with Amilyn set up though, don’t worry.”

She glances around but sees no sign of Ben. He must have left— without saying anything. At all. Not even to her or Poe— and without Hux. She’s a little surprised by this, which in turn makes her feel kind of stupid. They’re not actually friends or anything, so it’s not _that_ weird that he’d leave without announcing it. It’s fine. She was busy, anyway. It’s not a big deal. It didn’t even actually matter to her like that, she was just curious what happened. It’s fine. The meeting is set up, so it’s fine. 

“Great. Thanks.” 

There must be something in her voice, because Poe sighs, exasperated. “We talked, Rey, he knows what to do. I gave him my number, if he has questions I’ll answer them. Stop stressing out. I can feel you stressing out.”

God, she hates him. So much. So fucking much. She’s not _stressing out_ — she’s slowly going insane, clearly. There’s a difference. And it’s not even her fault, it’s fucking _Ben’s._ She can keep on blaming him for that even after having decided that she wants to keep him around, however backwards it is. The two points can coexist. 

Rey laughs, putting her palm to her forehead. 

“Wow. You’re right— it really is all fine, isn’t it? I guess I just needed to hear it.” She smiles, simply shrugging her dumb girly worry away per his suggestion. “Thanks, Poe, you’re the best.”

“Aw,” he grins completely unironically. “No problem! You know I love you.”

“Bro, come on. That’s my girlfriend,” a voice jokes. Finn comes up beside her with his big smile. It drops a little when he sees her face. “You okay?”

Rey nods, feeling the mask begin to crack. Her threshold for emotions has been exceeded every day this week. She came tonight for loud, busy nothingness, but then Ben showed up and now instead she’s—

“Hey,” Finn gets her attention, frowning. “You sure?”

Rey doesn’t have the energy. She’s just… she’s just glad that Finn’s here with her. That’s all. She hugs him, comforted by his warmth when he puts his arms around her in return. He’s her best friend in the world. They met when everything was still new; they’ve become who they are beside each other. Nothing could replace that. 

She might not tell him absolutely everything, but that doesn’t change the bond they have. It doesn’t change this. Nothing has to change at all.

“Yeah,” she assures him, willing with all her might for this heavy feeling to go away. “Life is good. Everyone’s here. Poe and I found our replacement volunteer. I just beat some dumb jerks. I say we get some french fries.”

“Hell yeah,” he agrees enthusiastically, laughing. “French fries.”

Rey scans the bar one last time. No Ben.  “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Fireworks" by Mitski [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k-txILGo0SM)
> 
> i apologize for the length i am also frustrated by it i swear to god every single time i start with the intention of like 4k and then i just wdfmnbvcxdfghjiuytreasdfgwertyuikjcswfgnbvcdrtyuiol,mnbvcswertgh BOOM 11k but like a week late
> 
> <3 thank you for reading!


	5. daughter of unconscious fate

“Poe’s taking the thirteen-and-ups,” Rey explains, twisted backwards on her bench to face them.

Poe looks up from his phone, whips around, and snaps, “Hey! Molly! I heard that!”

Giggles follow from the back of the bus. Poe turns back and smiles at her and Ben, shaking his head. 

“Jesus. Sorry. But yeah, I am— and that’s most of them.”

“To be fair, it’s about as much work as we’ll have. Maybe even less. They’re old enough where they can pair up and wander around a bit without him. Buddy system and all. Ours can’t do that. Fair warning, Tony’s gonna be a bit sour about it— he’s the only twelve year old, so he thinks he should be in Poe’s group.”

“Plus, his sister’s with me which makes it worse,” Poe adds, sighing. “But it’s policy.”

“Right,” Ben says, like he’s excited to know something. “Age groups.”

“Correct, my friend. So you’ll have him, Ricardo, Isabelle, and Samuel. Tony will give you sass like Rey said, but he’s a good kid. Ricardo’s the youngest and and probably the chillest, to be honest. Isabelle is super cute, but super shy. And Samuel—”

“Why don’t I tell him about Samuel?” Rey interrupts. Poe shrugs his go-ahead. “He can be difficult,” she turns to Ben with a lower voice. “Basically, it’s probably best if I handle anything that comes up with him. If he starts acting up, I’ll deal with it, but just so you’re prepared.”

Ben’s eyebrows go up, but he nods. “Okay. That’s fine.”

“Any questions?”

His shoulders drop as he lets out a deep breath. “Uh… don’t think so. Not yet.”

Aw. He’s nervous. Rey smiles. “Okay. Just let me know if you do. Thanks for doing this.”

“Yeah— thanks, man,” Poe throws in with his head down, texting.

“Sure.” Ben meets her eye as he says it, privately amused. _Yeah,_ Rey thinks. Poe’s cellular affliction is a constant struggle.

He stays pretty quiet while she and Poe get everyone off the bus and organized in the parking lot. She doesn’t blame him. It took her a while to get used to being in charge of smaller humans— how to act, what to say, all that. She already introduced him to the group as a whole, but their response was dramatically unenthused.

Hopefully he didn’t take that to heart. She told him not to worry about it— kids are pretty selfish by nature and, until they need him, they probably won’t even try to remember his name. He laughed at that.

Once everyone’s ushered inside the building, Poe’s group and Rey and Ben’s group officially split off. Poe waves his phone as he goes, walking backwards out of the massive lobby.

“I’ll have my phone at the ready if you need me!” he calls.

“We know,” Ben calls back, holding up a hand in goodbye. 

As soon as Poe disappears around the corner, he looks down at her once more with a smirky grin. Rey laughs this time, but puts a clamp on it quickly. 

She shouldn’t be laughing at her coworker behind his back— she’s not like that. That’s not something she’d do. But… it feels good for someone else to acknowledge what she has to put up with. Most everyone who meets Poe automatically loves him and, while she’d never admit it, it infuriates her. 

Rey turns to the kids. “Okay. Pop quiz. Where’s the emergency meet up spot?”

“The fountain,” Ricardo answers first, wide-eyed at all the things to look at.

“Thank you,” Rey nods. “Now everyone else say it. Isabelle?”

“The fountain.”

“Thank you. Tony?”

Tony crosses his arms and mumbles. “Fountain.”

“Thank you… Samuel?”

Without looking at her, he points to it.

Rey relaxes. “Good. Thank you. Does anyone have someplace they want to go first?”

“Penguins,” Isabelle says quietly.

“Yeah? I think that’s close. Let’s start heading through the exhibits in that direction.”

“I want to see the sharks,” Tony adds crossly.

“We will. We’ll be able to see everything. I think both are that way, though. Perfect.”

It takes some cajoling to get Ricardo moving after he catches sight of the life-size whale diorama hanging from the ceiling, but once she gets him to focus, they’re off.

First it’s the jellyfish. All of them are immediately drawn right against the plate glass, ogling the delicate creatures.

“They look soft,” Ben comments. Rey turns to him slowly to see if he’s messing with her. No. He’s staring just like they are.

“Probably shouldn’t pet one to find out.” 

He looks at her. Blinks in concern. “Of course not. They sting.”

It takes everything in her to not burst out laughing. “Yes. I know that, Ben.”

“Oh.” He steps forward to look closer with the kids.

“Do you think you could have a jellyfish as a pet?” she hears Isabelle asks him tentatively after a minute.

He sighs heavily, really thinking about it. “Maybe. I don’t think they would like it very much.”

“Yeah,” Isabelle nods sagely. “You’re right.”

Rey smiles.

She’d been so worried about this. She couldn’t help it. Vouching for Ben easily could’ve proven to be a mistake, made things awkward, caused _so_ many problems. But it hasn’t.

It’s been totally fine. He’s a little odd, yes, but Rey’s coming to learn that that’s just _him_. She doesn’t mind it. He lends a steady energy to their group. Balances things out somehow.

He’s even been sort of friendly so far, or at least his version of it. This is about as cheery and extraverted as she suspects the man gets. It’s enough, though, because the kids seem plenty comfortable with him. Hell, Isabelle is already _talking_ to him. It took that girl two days to talk to Rey for the first time. 

She owes him for this. He saved the whole trip by swooping in out of nowhere like he did. 

And while Rey is genuinely grateful, it’s still hard for her to think about it too closely. Things get scary whenever she lets herself wonder about Ben. In any capacity. It always inevitably leads to questions whose answers she’s afraid of and feelings she doesn’t know what to do with.

The issue isn’t with Ben, to be fair— it’s that _she_ hasn’t gotten her mind right yet. It’s her. She can’t get that tiny inkling of unreality that ties her to him to go away. She’s noticed that it gets worse the more they see each other, but that it’s the worst of all when they’re alone. Being out in the world with him dampers that somewhat, at least. It seems to help ground her perceptions. Rey still has to work to feel normal even here and now, but it’s getting easier. She’s learning.

It’s dreams, now, that she has no defense from. 

Rey doesn’t ever actually remember them, but it’s enough to know they’re happening. When she wakes, she gets the distinct feeling that he was _just_ there with her, right up until the moment she opened her eyes. Like he’d been keeping her silent company on the other side. 

The residual feelings from what she can’t remember completely consume her in those first few minutes of consciousness, despite not understanding what they’re about. Eventually those fade, too, and she’s left feeling painfully empty. For two mornings in a row now, she’s simply stared at the ceiling for close to an hour waiting for her alarm to go off, searching herself for answers and finding nothing.

But the fact that Ben is solid and here, now, in her waking world— it’s actually comforting. Considering how easy it could’ve been for things to feel strained between them, Rey is grateful, for what it’s worth, that they’re not. She can’t say _why_ they’re not— maybe he’s chilled out because he knows about Finn now. Maybe she imagined all the ‘tense’ moments that caused her to worry in the first place. Or maybe Ben simply doesn’t possess the self-awareness necessary to foster discomfort like that.

Whatever the reason, he’s here. Everything’s okay. And Rey is relieved about it in a way she’s decided she’s not going to try to understand.

“I think they’re ready to move on,” he says, returning to her side.

Rey swallows and nods. “Good."

The tropical gallery is next, with incredibly colorful fish everywhere. There’s so many sub-exhibits to see in the wing that the two sort of stand in the center and let the kids move around it at their own pace. Samuel hasn’t spoken since they got off the bus which worries Rey a bit, but he seems okay so far.

“Are these the same kids you work with all the time?” Ben asks.

“There are more that didn’t come, but pretty much. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I can just tell they respect you.”

“I— don’t know about that,” Rey says, mildly warm in the face. It’s funny, ‘respect.’ No one she knows would ever think to comment on that kind of thing. “They’ve certainly known me long enough to know to do what I say.”

“Respect is more than doing what someone tells you,” he counters, but apparently doesn't care to elaborate. “How long, then?”

“Started volunteering a little over two years ago. Those three started coming to the center last year. Samuel—” She gestures to the curly-haired ten year-old by the reef exhibit. “—Is the only one who’s been there longer than me.”

“Why?”

“SBYE gets a lot of kids that can’t go anywhere else, whether that’s because of money issues or behavioral issues or whatever else. And Samuel’s… he’s just a long-timer.” 

“I meant why’d you start?”

“Oh.” She turns and sees that he’s looking at her with his full attention— body turned, head gently tilted, eyes direct. He’s not doing anything wrong, but she almost wishes he was; that way she’d have an excuse to get out from under the sheer weight of his gaze. It’s not unpleasant, it’s just… a lot. “Well…”

Rey spots some bright coral behind him and starts towards it as an excuse to move. He follows with a few feet of distance. She’s not sure how much she wants to tell him, so she starts with her most standard, topical answer.

“I’m majoring in human services, so volunteering with this kind of thing is relevant. It’s good experience.”

She keeps walking. Silence. Then more silence. She waits a moment longer, then turns and sees that she lost him a while back. He’s squinting into a tank a ways down.

“This is incredible,” he mutters. Rey comes up beside him to see. “All of these— they’ve taken specific areas of tropical marine climates from around the world and then individually recreated what a sample of the life there. From everywhere, lined up in one room.” He turns and must see the look on her face. “Oh. I’m sorry. I heard you, I just—”

“Don’t be sorry— it really is pretty cool.”

She might be imagining it, but his cheeks look slightly pink. “What’s human services?”

He asks it like he’s afraid it’s a dumb question, but it’s not. Not a lot of colleges have the major.“It’s a bit of a blend of disciplines. It revolves around public service, community outreach, that kind of thing.”

“So you want to help people.”

She has to hold in a sigh. It’s more than that, but Rey has found there’s generally no point in going into it with people. Her actual reasons for getting into the field get too close to some truths she'd rather keep a tight grip on— things most people wouldn’t really care about or understand, anyway. She’d normally just smile and say yes and move on… but Rey doesn’t really feel like doing that.

She compromises. “Kids. If you want to get specific. That’s what I’m focused on in school. I want to…” She flourishes a hand, thinking of a way to say it. “Help them be who they want to be. Especially in cases where the circumstances are against them.”

“That’s noble.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he insists. “Makes everything I’ve ever wanted to do seem… vile.” He laughs humorlessly. “But maybe that part’s just me.”

Rey frowns. “What, vileness?”

“No,” he brushes it off, though it’s clearly what he meant.

“Well, you know that’s not possible,” she says, stubborn. Unfortunately for him, this is one of the topics she’s irrationally passionate about. “Even if everything you’ve ever wanted to do did seem vile in comparison to me, that wouldn’t be because you’re, like, inherently vile.”

“You don’t know that.” 

She was about to let it go, but he had to go and say that.

“But I do. Nothing’s ‘just you,’ not for anyone,” she argues. “I hear people say stuff like this a lot and it frustrates me, especially in class. The assumptions behind it are harmful to have in this line of work, but honestly just in general.” 

He looks like he really wants to say something, but hesitates. Rey uses the excuse to press on and roll right over him.

“Listen, I’ve actually developed a bit of a philosophy with everything I’ve learned about this— so, everyone is born with the same potential for good or greatness or whatever, right?”

He hesitates. “I guess.”

“Well, they are. It’s just disadvantages and crappy people and stuff, especially in early life, that make a person give up on that. When we’re young, we all have to adapt to whatever hand we’re dealt because there’s no other option, right? But, for better or for worse, however we adapt to that— often times that’s it. We’re sort of moulded in how we see the world and ourselves, and sometimes that’s where the line ends for people. Or at least keeps going the same direction forever, you know? And then their life reflects that. Their choices reflect that. It’s all caused, not innate. And this is proven— seriously, I’ve learned about it. I could show you the science. It’s basic psychology, basic sociology.”

“Hm.”

“But I figured that if that’s what initially causes kids to give up on themselves or ‘go wrong’— a lack of options— then that’s what I cared about doing. Giving options. That’s why I started.” 

She’s not entirely sure why she let herself say all of that— that’s generally what she tries _not_ to go into with people. At least she kept it pretty clinical.

His face is turned away, observing a seahorse. “Makes sense.”

She gets the vaguest feeling she’s upset him somehow. She continues carefully. 

“Yeah… well. That’s what the SBYE does, anyway. Amilyn probably showed you the list of all the programs we run.”

“She did.”

He pushes back some hair and turns her way again. He looks okay. Maybe she imagined it.

Ricardo ambles up to them. “Where are the whales?”

“Oh— I don’t think they have whales here, buddy,” Rey breaks the news lightly.

“But it’s the _aquarium.”_

“They’re too big for the tanks,” Tony grumbles, coming from the other side.

“Yeah, you can only see whales in the ocean.” Now it’s Isabelle, followed by a silent Samuel.

“Oh,” Ricardo sighs. “That’s okay.”

Rey wants to laugh, the kid looks so sad. But that would be cruel. “Hey— the penguins are next, I think. Didn’t you and Isabelle really want to see those?”

His eyes light up and he nods. The group starts walking.

The penguins aren’t the standard breed the average person would think of. Their coloring is more random and stripe-y; they’re smaller, faster, cuter. There are more people at the exhibit than the last due to the general entertainment factor of the creatures, but it’s still relatively uncrowded.

He’s been quiet for a while, so Rey chances what she thinks is an innocent question as they stand against the back wall. “What were you like as a kid?”

He looks over, brow furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

Rey shrugs. “I don’t know. I look at them, then I look at you, and…” A small laugh. “I guess I can’t really imagine it.”

He’s too awkward-stoic-angry. And big.

“Oh.” He watches them and takes a deep breath, struggling to come up with an answer. She tries to help him out. 

“Your dad said you used to want to be a mechanic. Like him.”

His face falls instantly. “He said that?”

Rey nods, realizing too late that she probably shouldn’t have brought up his dad.

Han has shared tiny bits and pieces about Ben in the few days since he visited the shop, but never anything directly. He doesn’t so much as _tell_ her about his son as think aloud about him or mention random things while he’s distracted working. Nothing useful about the big picture. It’s only made Rey more curious, but it’s still most definitely not her place to pry. It was a mistake to say anything.

“Forget it, I shouldn’t have—”

“No— no, it’s fine.” He smiles in what she thinks is supposed to be a reassuring way, but just looks grim. “As I kid, I was… very eager about the things I cared about. Determined, when I wanted to be, too. Impressionable. Probably too much so. Curious. And… you know, sort of… lonely.”

“I’m sorry."

There’s a heartbeat of a pause. “Don’t be.”

For a split second, Rey considers saying something— considers telling him he’s not alone in that. She could tell him about Plutt, about the narrowness of her world as a child, about the bubble of poverty and petty crime, about the person it made her and the complete and total isolation it caused. She thinks of how she could explain to him that she didn’t have a _single_ friend up until a year and a half ago, or anyone at all who sincerely cared about her until Han. 

‘Lonely’ doesn’t even really begin to cover it, actually. That would be too passive of a word. She was actively alienated by her peers, made to fend for herself physically and emotionally for most of her life. It’s why she’s so passionate about this field now, and it’s also why she had to reinvent herself— the thing that Ben so openly disapproved of and judged her for that night at the bar. Maybe he would’ve understood if he knew what it’s been like for her. 

Like how Finn, for example, was her first friend ever. Like, _ever_ ever. Before that was just a hellscape of public school and juvenile detention where everyone regarded her as something like a rabid animal to avoid at all costs. She found belonging with Finn and his group that she’d never known before, and only because of her reinvention. 

Rey figured if making herself… _accessible_ to them would allow her to keep that belonging— to keep from being alone— then she’d happily pay that price. She’d gladly be the sweetest version of herself and keep all the unsavory bits tucked away, if it meant getting to keep them. Everyone already does that, to some extent. She just needs it more.

But she’s not sure whether Ben could ever truly understand that. He seems like the kind of person who simply _is_ the way he is and forges his way through the world like that— wherever it leads him, whether it leaves him friendless or not. From what she can tell, he seems like he could survive just fine either way. 

Rey can’t. It’s not an option for her. Besides, Ben has family— so how lonely could he ever really be? How lonely could a person with two loving, living parents raised in a middle class household look in her face and claim to be?

Suddenly, she’s almost _angry_ about it. It’s what ultimately makes her swallow back the urge to share. She’s not sure what she was thinking in the first place. She’s known this guy for a week, and yet she was seriously considering telling him things she’s never told anyone, not even Han or Leia. It’s ridiculous. It’s insane. It’s bullshit.

“What was that?” Ben asks from right beside her, nearly making her jump.

Rey glances around, does a quick headcount, then realizes Ben wasn’t looking anywhere but at her when he asked. “Oh— sorry, what was what?”

“You.” He frowns, eyes searching her face. “What just happened?”

She feels her cheeks get hot and quickly directs her attention forward to the penguins. “I don’t know, did I do something?”

“Rey,” her says, crossing his arms. Her name falling so low and comfortable from his mouth makes her heart skip against her will. “Give it to me. I can take it.”

She scoffs, fighting the urge to literally run away. She feels cornered, stunned. Like someone just ripped off her invisibility cloak or something. _Could he seriously tell? Was he really able to see?_

“There’s something. Tell me.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll start guessing and I don’t think you’ll like it.”

This gets half a begrudging smile out of her, but she stubbornly remains facing ahead. “Okay— one, you definitely just threatened me. So yikes, no. And two, it’s not exactly polite conversation anyway. Trust me, it was nothing.”

“I don’t care about polite conversation.” He steps directly in front of her, so damn big that he easily takes up most of her field of view. “You don’t have to be polite. Not to me.”

A strange magnetic ripple goes up Rey’s spine. She stares at his shoulder, at the seams of his jacket. Focusing. She tries not to breathe too deeply, unsure what it’ll do to her. Her heart already feels like it’s beating harder than it should from the proximity.

“Come on. Be mean. I know it’s in there.”

“Yeah, you tend to bring that out,” she mutters.

“Good.”

Her eyes snap up to his. _Fine._

“I was _thinking_ that you’re a privileged asshole who’s probably never known real struggle or _actual_ loneliness— or been capable of understanding what a person will do to stop it.”

His expression doesn’t change. His eyes are placid. “Because of my parents, right?”

Rey is totally numb from the fact that she actually just _said_ that to him, but she forces her head to nod.

He has this ability to make her _angry_ like no other person she’s ever met. It scares her, but it also feels kind of good. Really good.

“I can understand why you’d think that. You’re not entirely wrong, although there’s more to it.” He smiles weakly and shrugs with one shoulder. “Did my dad say anything else to you about me? Other than the mechanic thing, I mean?”

_He’s… he’s not even upset_.

It takes her a second to recover, to figure out how to respond. Normally she’d apologize for telling someone that their pain isn’t severe enough to deserve her empathy, but Ben doesn’t even seemed fazed. He told her he _understood._

“Um…” Rey starts, stumbling to catch up. “Not really.”

“Right. Yeah, that’s fine. Just curious. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Rey grins at him without thinking.

“Yeah,” she responds, sharp and sweet with sarcasm. “I’m sure that’s why you asked.” 

Immediately, the smile drops dead on her face. It she wasn’t frozen in place, she might literally clap her hand over her mouth. What the hell is _wrong_ with her around him? She just told herself she’d stay away from the subject; it’s not right to be so familiar and _rude_ about this.

But Ben laughs, completely unaffected. He looks legitimately amused, like she isn’t a random nobody who just insulted him about something incredibly personal, but a friend. Teasing. 

Even in her confused shock, the sound of his laughter feels warm and right all over.

“There it is,” he says.

Rey stares up at him in wonder, uncomprehending. “What’s _wrong_ with you?” 

He grins and steps back to stand next to her. “Plenty of things.”

Rey is spared having to sort out her feelings about that one when Isabelle returns to them, followed by the rest. One by one they regroup, then move on.

All the boys, but particularly Ben and Samuel, seem especially taken with the spiral ramp they take to the next floor. It wraps around a massive cylindrical tank for four stories full of local east coast ocean life. An architectural feat, both beautiful to look at and be in. Ben and Samuel stay on the inside of the walkway, close to glass.

“Is Ben going to work at the center now?” Isabelle asks Rey as they climb.

“I don’t know, Izzy,” she answers honestly. “I don’t think so, though. I think he’s just helping for today.”

“Why not?”

“That’s a good question.” Rey looks over to where he’s practically pressed against the glass, fascinated. “Maybe you should ask him to stay.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Isabelle shakes her head frantically, shy. Rey smiles. It was worth a shot.

They walk slowly to give everyone ample time to appreciate the centerpiece, eventually reaching the next level of exhibits. This floor is less busy than the bottom one, which helps Rey relax a little. The kids start exploring.

“What about you— what were you like as a kid?” Ben asks her as they’re standing around in the first room full of tanks.

“I was a total piece of work, actually,” she tells him honestly. It doesn’t feel right to lie to him now. Something in her gut tells her it’s pointless. Unnatural, even.

Ben smiles. “Han said you were stealing off his lot when he met you.”

“Oh, yeah. I stole a lot of stuff.” Feels weird to talk about. “I was good at it, too.”

“Why?”

“My foster dad.” Feels _really_ weird to talk about. “Taught me how to be really good at bad things.”

“So what happened? When Han caught you?”

Rey sighs thoughtfully, sitting on the first bench she sees. Ben opts to stand and lean on wall next to her. It’s crazy that she’s about to willingly tell someone about this, but here she is. Her gut feeling tells her it should be okay. That he’s okay. 

Still, her hands shake slightly. She has to wedge them between her knees to hide it.

“I imagine I was kind of like a stray cat to him,” she smiles. “He caught me that first time and let me go, but he told me I could come back if I ever wanted to learn how to fix cars instead of, you know. Jacking pieces off them. I think he could tell I didn’t really have anyone looking after me. I snuck back like a month later, though, and he caught me again. He threatened to call the cops if I didn’t come inside and talk to him, so I did. He asked me a bunch of questions, gave me a sandwich— made another offer to teach me stuff. I honestly planned on never going near the place again, but then… I did. A week or two later. I think I told myself at the time that it was just for another sandwich. I hung out there for half a day just messing with cars and listening to him talk. They were cool cars and good sandwiches, so I just kept going back, more and more. Felt like the only place I was wanted. After probably six months, I was there practically every day of the week. I finally realized I was there because I _wanted_ to be there, not just for the steady food— and that I wanted a life more like Han’s than anyone else’s I knew. And that it was a real option for me. So Han officially hired me and gave me my first legitimate job, which started a whole chain of events. Basic stuff like saving my own money, keeping a real schedule, learning how to live like a functioning member of society.” She laughs at herself. “So to answer to your question, I guess what ‘happened' after he caught me was sort of… everything. Everything important, anyway. Robbing him is really what got me here.” 

Ben stares across the room, thinking. They’re both silent. Rey’s stomach twists and twists as it stretches on further and further. 

_I was too personal,_ she realizes with a sinking feeling. She just went on a monologue about how his dad basically saved her shitty life— why would she do that? She even hinted at the hunger and neglect and everything, too. God, why would she _do_ that?

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” Ben finally pieces together, “but… I don’t think you’re actually good at stealing.”

It takes Rey longer than it should to absorb his words. 

He frowns. “You got caught twice by the same guy in the same place. That means you got caught once and literally just… went straight back? That’s the worst tactical strategy I’ve ever heard in my life. Did you change your approach at all? Did any elements of the operation even change, or were you just hoping for the best? What made you think it would work the second time?”

Then she understands. With a strangled noise, Rey drops her face into her hands, laughing so abruptly that it doesn’t make any noise at first.

_He doesn’t care,_ her brain translates immediately, even if it’s insane or irrational. It’s just where it goes, like a completely disembodied voice inside herself. _He’s doesn’t care what you were._

Underneath the red-faced embarrassment, Rey knows her gut was right.

She’s still laughing when he cuts in to follow up, like he can’t help himself or hold it in. “I mean, seriously— you can’t really say that ‘robbing him got you here,’ because you didn’t even technically rob him, did you? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way, because you didn’t. It sounds like he stole free labor from you for six months, actually.”

“Shut _up,”_ she wheezes into her hands, laughing even harder. “I went at a different time on a different day— I had a real strategy. I did.”

“Right. Well, I’m glad you honed some other skills, because I don’t think that would’ve worked out for you in the long run.”

She snorts, desperately trying to stop. “Dick.”

In the very back of her mind is a whisper that wonders if he knows. If he understands how much this one seemingly normal, insignificant thing means to her.

“Is Rey crying?” Ricardo’s concerned voice whispers from beside Ben.

“No,” Ben assures him smugly. “No, Rey is just embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“I’m not! I’m fine!” she manages to blurt before Ben can answer, lifting her head quickly. She no doubt looks a mess. “I’m just laughing, Ricardo, don’t worry. Thank you, though, bud. Did you— did you see the Dory fish? Here, let’s go see the Dory fish.”

She stands abruptly, surreptitiously wipes a tear of laughter from the corner of an eye, and drags little Ricardo across the room. Ben follows wordlessly, a quiet, glowing energy about him. She swears she can sense it.

“See, Ricky? Don’t they look like Dory?”

“Yeah,” Ricardo says with dawning realization. “ _All_ of them look like Dory!”

“So cool, right? Wait here— I’m going to check on the others,” she announces, already backing away to just _breathe_ for a moment.

Halfway across the room, she hears Ben ask Ricardo, quietly and seriously, “What is that? What’s Dory?”

Ricardo launches into a wildly disorganized explanation of _Finding Nemo_. 

Where no one can see her, Rey smiles.

It feels like a door inside of her has been kicked open. All the stale air in her chest is flushed out, letting new air flood to her head, her her heart, her lungs. Her thoughts feel clear for the first time in a week.

It’s not so much a decision as it is acceptance— it’s going to be him. Ben’s going to be her exception. She can’t say exactly how or why she’s come to this conclusion, but she has.

Once she gave herself permission, it became that easy. From there on out, Rey talks to Ben about anything and everything.

The go from floor to floor, exhibit to exhibit, conversing without another shred of pretense. It’s all gone. She gets to drop the last remnants of her baseline act with him. She doesn’t have to hold her tongue about anything. He already knows more about her than her own friends at this point, so it’d be useless to lie or soften facts, anyway. No point in holding back. No need for anxiety or unsureness. It’s everything she didn’t know she needed. It’s glorious.

Ben remains odd— that part doesn’t go away. 

Sometimes Rey asks him basic questions and he looks at her like she’s speaking an alien language. It’s very unusual, but it ultimately ends up being kind of endearing. Ben’s not dumb or helpless by any means, but the look on his face reminds her of a lost puppy when he’s confused.

It’s his eyes. Despite the hardness of the rest of him, they’re too soft and expressive for his own good— he can’t help the puppy dog effect. Every single time, she takes one look at them and caves, backing off and rerouting the conversation so he doesn’t have to admit his confusion. 

Poe texts her with an hour to go about possibly joining the groups for lunch together in the café-picnic area. She shows the message to Ben, who takes one look at her screen and makes a low noise. Disapproval, maybe.

“What you think of him?” he asks.

“Wha— why?”

“I won’t tell.”

She rolls her eyes. He’s teasing her by referencing all the times today she’s said anything along the lines of _‘don’t mention this to anyone but—’_ and it’s honestly pretty uninspired.

“Do you want me to hate him or something?”

“No. I want you to acknowledge that you already do.”

She scoff-laughs. “Oh? I do, do I? Even if I did, I don’t understand why you even want me to—”

“Because we have to have negative thoughts and feelings, Rey. It’s in our nature. I just want to hear it.”

She stares at him. He’s serious.

Once upon a time she might’ve been angry at the presumptuousness of that statement. Or suspicious of the request. Or even unsettled by the intensity. But she’s not any of these things anymore— she’s adjusted to Ben being Ben. That part doesn’t bother her. 

It’s what he’s actually said. The idea of saying anything bad ever about any of her only friends in the world has always seemed ungrateful. Sacrilegious. Tempting fate. Wrong. Even if she was dying inside, she’d never admit stuff like this. She just wouldn’t. Besides, she’s never had anyone outside of the group to admit such things to, anyway.

“I can’t hate Poe. He’s Finn’s best friend,” she says. “He’s _my_ friend. He’s technically my boss.” 

Ben raises an eyebrow.

That’s all it takes, apparently, because then Rey is looking down at her hands and laughing under her breath— realizing that she’s about to succumb. Maybe she does need to say this out loud. Even if it’s just once, just to one person.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. Poe.” The words come way too easily, like they were ready to burst anyway. She counts the grievances on her fingers, fully committing. “He’s a horrible influence on Finn. An irresponsible boss. A total dick of a friend. I hate that everyone loves him just because he’s charismatic, I hate that he acts like he _owns_ my boyfriend, I hate that he gets what he wants so easily, and I _hate_ how he talks to me like I’m a sweet, fragile idiot. All the time. So yeah, I do. I hate him.”

Ben lets this sink in with a small smile. “And do you want to gather all the kids right now to go eat with him?”

She doesn’t skip a beat. “Not even a little.”

“Great. Me neither. Make up an excuse— blame me, if you need to.”

Rey laughs, shaking her head in disbelief. She’s needed someone on her level like this, on her _side_ like this, for so long. Where was he? 

The thought sinks in slowly until it physically aches, beginning to genuinely upset her for some reason. _Where was he?_ The words start to loop, making no more sense but feeling worse and worse.

Thankfully she realizes she’s slipping soon enough to be able to catch it and stop it. She _cannot_ get weird. It’ll all be ruined if she gets weird. _Reality. Stay._

Rey centers herself. Lets it roll off her. Manages to move on.

The touch tanks with all the sting rays and sand sharks to pet are a crowd favorite with the kids. Ben is visibly disturbed by the concept, which Rey finds hilarious.

“It just feels like a wet suit! Or sandpaper!” Tony urges him. “Come on, they don’t actually sting!”

“Yeah!” Isabelle joins in. 

“Do it, do it, do it,” Ricardo chants.

Ben looks over at Samuel standing a few feet away, staring into the water with a blank expression.

“I’ll do it if he does.”

Rey tenses. Samuel has been super quiet today. It isn’t necessarily a good thing, but it’s better than him being in breakdown mode in a public place. She’s been nervous to mess with him at all. Didn’t she tell Ben to just leave Samuel to her?

Samuel looks over at Ben. His floppy brown curls obscure his eyes from Rey’s sight, making him impossible to read.

“Personally I don’t think we should,” Ben adds, wearily surveying the water. “It looks cold. And slimy. But I’m open to differing opinions.”

Slowly, Samuel’s mouth curves into a crooked smile. Then he walks up to Ben and starts rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Damn. Okay. Fine, then,” Ben sighs, then starts doing the same.

“Rey! Ben sweared!” Ricardo giggles.

“Shh,” Tony hushes, trying to be cool and cover Ben’s ass. 

Stunned, Rey crosses her arms and stays out of it. She expected Mood Queen Samuel to take the opportunity with a fresh-meat counselor as an invitation to see what he can get away with, he’s not. 

The two kneel side by side on the concrete, each readying themselves to stick an arm elbow-deep into the cold saltwater. Ben hisses as he lowers his.

“Baby,” Samuel comments.

“Am not,” Ben grumbles.

Samuel practically squeals with delight when he touches his first sting ray, smiling so uncontrollably wide that it looks painful. Ben, in contrast, groans in disgust. Tony, wanting to be part of it, gets down again to join them. The three make noises and giddily complain in concert as the creatures swim by.

Rey can’t believe it. It’s impossible to get Samuel to participate, to enjoy things, to do anything. He’ll take anything— literally anything— that any authority figure says to him and use it as ammunition to cause problems. It’s his speciality. His passion. She doesn’t understand what Ben said or did to make him so… easy. 

She observes them like that for a long time, finding herself watching Ben most of all. Noticing things. The way his expressions shift into one another. The pieces of hair that keep falling into his face. The tendons in his forearm when he withdraws his absurdly large hand from the water. The smile that transforms his entire face. The lines of his profile.

She realizes what’s happening. It’s too late— her stomach has already launched itself into that zero-gravity feeling— but she abruptly turns around anyway. She focuses all her energy on a random woman with a stroller. Breathes. It hurts worse than it should.

The very last stretch of their tour is through a long glass tunnel surrounded on all sides by the exhibit itself. It’s stunning. Natural light bends through the water from every direction, placing dancing shadows over everyone and everything inside. A big shark swims straight overhead of their group, eliciting lots of excitement and pointing.

Ben hangs back with her while the kids roam up and down the tunnel.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I smell like fish now.”

“Bummer.”

They walk slowly. Creatures swim past.

“Rey,” he says to get her attention when they’re about halfway.

_It’s not his fault,_ she thinks. It’s just her name. He’s not doing it on purpose. It’s not his fault.

“Yeah?”

She braces herself, then stops and looks at him. There’s delicate light and shadow rippling across his face, making his eyes look lighter and clearer. Like dark honey. Unfairly pretty. It’s almost inhuman. Unearthly.

That’s when everything just… glitches.

There’s no other way to put it. All the light and color in the world simultaneously fritzes around her. 

The chaos becomes an added filter over her actual plane of sight, not transforming but obscuring it— replacing it as the thing closest to the front, the thing her brain takes as truth. Rey tries to blink it away, but it’s useless. The new layer slots itself in place and everything else falls away. It’s over. All Rey can do is stay upright.

Ben is still in front of her, but something is off. Something is different. No— everything is different. Without taking her eyes off him, she knows in her gut this isn’t the aquarium. It’s cold. It’s dark. It’s… snowing? 

His face is illuminated now by strong moonlight, both from the sky and reflected off the snow from below. His eyes, nearly black, reflect a slash of pure white light. Brighter than anything natural. It’s inhuman. Unearthly. 

They shine at her, almost glittering. Lips slightly parted in shock. In awe. Wind blows his hair into his face, pieces of it sticking to his face with sweat.

A dangerous noise crackles in tandem with shifting hues of blue light in the periphery of Rey’s vision. She barely notices it, though, because that’s when she notices that she’s inexplicably _scared._ She’s trembling. Her head hurts. There’s blood in her mouth. Why is there blood in her mouth? 

She searches his face for help, for some kind of answer, but there’s none to be found.

Because that isn’t Ben.

Whoever he is looks fierce, but mystified. The look on his face transcends any word Rey can think to put to it. In his eyes are equal traces of fear and wonder. It feels like he thinks he’s just seen her for the first time. 

No, not seen. Found. 

She knows the difference not from any clue on his face, but in the air itself. The truth of his feelings twists and flows and spikes in the gap between them. She _feels_ the discovery like it were her own. It gives her goosebumps.

His voice slips into her consciousness, just a murmur, but solid and clear.

_'It_ is _you.’_

And then, with no warning, it’s over.

She’s in the aquarium again. The blood taste is gone. Ben is actually Ben again in his plain black jacket, and he hasn’t moved an inch. 

The whole thing must’ve lasted two seconds tops, but it was apparently long enough to have been noticed. He’s staring.

Rey recovers as fast as she can, shoving her feelings down. Hard, and without looking at them. She and Ben might be friendly now, but no level of friendliness could excuse this. Nothing could make explaining to this man that she’s having dreams and now fucking _visions_ about him _okay._

“Yeah?” she asks, voice shaking imperceptibly. “What were you going to say?”

Something changes behind his eyes. Whatever it is settles between them, thick and silent. For a suspended moment, Rey thinks that he knows. That he’s about to somehow tell her that he _knows._

But the look dissipates. 

“Just that we have four minutes until we’re supposed to meet Poe’s group at the bus.” 

“Right.” She nods, still reeling. “Yeah. Good call. We should go.”

They start walking, but Rey stops after a couple of steps. She turns away, trying to reorient herself. Being surrounded on all sides by moving water and undulating shadows isn’t helping. She blinks at her faint reflection in the glass, feeling disturbingly separate from her.

A flutter of panic. _What now?_

“Here,” Ben’s voice comes softly from beside her. She turns her head. He’s holding out his arm. No explanation.

After a moment of confused hesitation, Rey slowly reaches for it. She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t meet his eyes, doesn’t acknowledge him at all. She can’t. Still, she takes his arm. Once she’s steadied, they start walking again, together. 

He says nothing of it the whole way. No questions asked.

_Thank you,_ she whispers in her head. It would ruin his gift of mercy to say it out loud. _Thank you. Thank you. Thank you._

Silently, Rey lets him lead her and everyone else out of the tunnel, holding on until they reach the end.

Poe is extra chatty on the ride back to the rec center. Rey finds herself shooting frequent looks at Ben now. Twice she ducks behind her seat to hide her laughter.

Apparently it’s easier to forget about your own descent into madness when you’re laughing— when the cause of it is also the cure.

Rey takes the last few minutes of the drive to answer all the texts from Rose and Finn and Jannah she accumulated throughout the day. She keeps an ear on Ben and Poe’s ongoing conversation.

“How’d you get Samuel to play nice with you?”

“I suggested it.”

Poe laughs. “I like you. So calm. Must be that spiritual-self-defense background, huh?”

“Mm.”

Poe obviously doesn’t get the fact that Ben fully understands he’s being made fun of with comments like that. Ben may act and react to things strangely sometimes, but the man isn’t stupid. Poe appears unable to make that distinction.

“But seriously, what did you do to keep him so chill?”

Interested, Rey turns around. She does so only slightly and carefully, so as not to draw attention to herself. Ben looks slightly pissed off at this point, understandably, after being underhandedly treated like an idiot the whole bus ride.

“I really didn’t do anything.”

“Nah, there must be some secret ancient technique that you use,” Poe laughs. “Because he gets volatile over _anything_ , man. Any excuse.”

“I don’t know. I just asked him,” Ben says flatly, glaring into his lap.

“Oh, come on— you must know something we don’t! The kid’s fucking nuts, he usually explodes at the drop of a pin!”

Ben looks up. “If you treat a kid like a bomb, he’ll eventually become one.”

It happens instantly. For the second time that day— that _hour_ — Rey’s world glitches apart.

She’s not part of it this time. The scene with the snow felt like it belonged to her in some way, even though she didn’t know it. This doesn’t.

It’s Ben. He’s inside someplace, lying down. His head turns towards her, a soft but ominous green glow washing over his face. She watches on unseen as he blinks awake slowly, then all at once. A streak of unusually bright light shines in his eyes like before, but the emotion behind them is different now. It’s less awe than disbelief— disbelief that slides quietly into stunned hurt.

He’s young, she realizes in that moment of rawness. He’s younger than Ben is. Softer.

But his eyes harden. Quickly. She can _see_ the conviction inside of him condensing into steel before her eyes, forming a shield. He moves. 

A severe male voice calls out, panicked. ‘ _Ben, no—’_

Dark motion blurs at the edges of her vision, swallowing her.

And then it’s over.

She’s back.

And the first and only thought Rey can manage in the wake is— _what happened?_

Her heart is racing, but she barely notices. It doesn’t feel important. _She_ doesn’t feel important. She doesn’t even feel disoriented or crazy this time, only frustrated that it was too short. That she left the scene before she got to see what happened next.

Her first thought should’ve been something panicked about _losing her mind_ , but it wasn’t. It was worry for him.

Rey’s condition is getting worse.

And the only explanation for it is Ben. 

Being with him, getting closer to to him— it’s making Rey go mad. Actually, truly mad. She acknowledges that. She also acknowledges the fact that cutting him out of her life is probably the only way to stop it. 

But she’s not willing to do that. She just isn’t. Not yet, anyway.

As long as she doesn’t start actually _believing_ in the madness, everything could still be fine this way. It really could be. 

She doesn’t have to tell anyone. Hell, neither Poe nor Ben noticed where she went just now; she could easily keep this to herself. As long as she remains stable and functional— then what’s the real issue with it? 

A little bit of contained madness doesn’t have to hurt. Not if she doesn’t let it.

She searches Ben’s face, looking for any trace of the other versions she saw— knowing, of course, that anything she finds will be coincidental. None of what she saw was real. She’s clear on that, at least. As of now, Rey still knows what’s real and what isn’t, and this ‘vision’ phenomena _isn’t._ That’s her line in the sand.

They’re dreams gone wrong. They’re her brain’s maladaptive tricks. They’re the result of exhaustion and the difficulties in life she can’t cope with. Most importantly, they’re psychological in nature and therefore treatable— if she should ever really need it. It’s the only explanation she’s prepared to accept, and it’s the explanation she’ll remind herself of it as often as she needs to in order to keep herself from falling over the edge. 

But that doesn’t mean she can’t still imagine things. Privately.

She keeps watching Ben as he takes a deep, patient breath at the chattering Poe. He looks tired. The deep-down kind, sort of like her. 

Her thoughts loop to what he said right before she glitched away.

_'If you treat a kid like a bomb, he’ll eventually become one.’_

With an inexplicable sadness, Rey commits the words to memory— coupled with the exact moment the imaginary boy’s softness went dead in his eyes.

Rey is pleased that all of their kids say bye to Ben of their own volition once they get back to the center. Well, Samuel makes intentional eye contact on his way out without looking angry, but that counts for him.

“Are you staying?” Ben asks her in the parking lot, once all the kids are tucked safely away inside.

“No, I was only scheduled for the trip.”

He nods, nonchalant. “I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

It shouldn’t make her heart do a weird little jump, but it does. She gets a grip. It’s a genuinely nice thing to offer. She is, in fact, tired from walking around all day.

“That would be really great, actually. Thank you.”

Rey never actually got a look at his car at Ace’s, but is completely unsurprised to discover that it’s a Mercedes. She wonders exactly how rich he is. 

“So. How did I do?” he asks once he inputs her address.

“Today? Mm… B-plus,” she jokes. When he doesn’t react at all, she clarifies, “By which I mean good. Above average.”

He smiles to himself, pleased. It’s adorable. In a clinical sense— a definitional sense. “Oh. Good.”

He turns out of the parking lot onto the street. His steering wheel seems to be turning smoothly from what she can tell. He better not have gotten it fixed somewhere else.

“Your wheel seems alright,” she notes. 

“Oh— yeah. It, uh,” he clears his throat. “The problem kind of comes in waves.”

“That’s weird. Then it’s probably not the power steering.”

“Right. Probably not. I guess we’ll see.”

They’re comfortably quiet for a while. Rey watches a family cross a street and wonders whether she’ll ever have a reason to see Ben again once he gets his car taken care of. Maybe she’ll run into him once in a while if he ever comes by the shop to see to his dad. Or maybe in passing if he ever goes to Kanata’s again. _If he ever, if he ever, if he ever…_ Not exactly encouraging.

“Thank you,” Rey says. “For doing this today. You saved the whole thing.”

“You already thanked me.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t adequate. You must’ve spent all of Saturday with Amilyn just to officially register as a volunteer.”

He shrugs.

“Was it at least what you hoped for?”

His eyes dart to her nervously. “What— what I hoped for?”

“Well, yeah,” she says. “At the bar you said you were looking for something better than your old job. Was it better?”

“Oh. Definitely.”

“Good.” Rey fiddles with her jacket. “So… what was so bad about it? Your old job, I mean.”

“Hux,” he answers immediately.

“Ha-ha. But really, why did you quit?”

He chews on his lip in silence, preparing to make a risky left. He makes it, comes to a stop at the next light, then glances over like he’s hoping she gave up on the question— hoping she isn’t still waiting for an answer. She is. 

“Actually— now that I think about it, I shouldn’t say that. Hux is my only friend, so I’m going to formally retract that statement.” 

Deflection. She takes the bait, though. “Your only friend? That can’t be true.” 

He can be awkward and intense, but he’s also funny and put-together and likable. There’s no reason this man shouldn’t have a million friends. If absolutely nothing else, there ought to be at least a handful of girls who hang around him just in hope of the off chance he might fall in love with them.

“It is.”

“Well, what about friendly acquaintances? Don’t you have those?”

“I mean, I don’t think so,” he frowns, thinking. “Maybe. It’s possible.”

“What do you mean, it’s _possible?”_

“Oh— it’s not,” he corrects. “I meant no, I don’t.”

“Well, is that because of your job or something?” she asks, expertly looping back around to her original question. “You said you didn’t like who it made you, didn’t you?”

“I… did say that. But you don’t want to hear about that, Rey.”

“Yes, I do.” 

“It’s complicated.”

Rey goes silent, trying not to acknowledge to even herself how stupidly hurt his avoidance makes her feel. She’s been more honest with Ben today than she’s been with anyone in years, and he’s refusing to give her this one simple thing.

“I can do complicated,” she tries.

“We’ll see,” he mutters, distracted by something on the road.

She scoffs. “What does _that_ mean?” 

“It means there are some things that you won’t—” He stops. Exhales. “That a person can’t un-know.”

_Jesus._ _Cryptic much?_ She’d think he killed somebody from the way he said it. So dramatic.

Rey’s not sure what to make of it or how to respond, so she chooses to go with glaring out the window, chin on her fist.

“Yeah, well. Friends tell each other stuff,” she finally mumbles.

“Oh,” he laughs dryly. “Then, by definition, you have none.” 

Wow. Absolutely no chill.

He can be kind of ruthless— it’s like there’s a switch somewhere in there, presumably right next to the bottomless well of anger issues he thinks she hasn’t noticed. Maybe if he knew she wouldn’t judge him for it he would actually talk to her.

Tense silence. A few blocks roll by.

Pretty quickly Rey starts to feel bad. She’s projecting. She doesn’t even know that much about him yet— he could have a real reason for not wanting to tell her. Even if he didn’t, it’s not like he owes her anything. She’s not being fair. 

“Well. Actually,” she swallows, preparing herself. “I’d technically have one, I guess. By that definition. Or at least half.” 

There’s a delay, but Ben breathes a laugh. The sound restores her. She keeps going. 

“And you can have mine.” The words come fast. “My friends. Even if they don’t really count by definition. I could get you at least a solid six non-friends easy. They’d like you. You can totally hang out with us.”

His eyebrow arches; the corner of his mouth twitches.“I can?"

_Shit._ “I— I didn’t mean it like that. Not in a charity way or anything. I meant you _should._ You should hang out with us.”

He gives her a fond little smile, like she’s entertained him. There’s something in it that’s almost sad, though, and she doesn’t know why. She wishes she could tell what he’s thinking.

“That’s… really kind. Thank you,” he says. That’s it. 

The five small words hit Rey in the face with all the weight of her own stupidity and awkwardness. Her _childishness._ Why would she assume that he’d even want to hang out with a group of college underclassmen? He’s, like… an adult. A real adult. With a life. He’s probably seen and experienced more than anyone in her group of comparative children combined. She cringes at herself inside for even suggesting it. 

The cringe becomes something much worse when she realizes— she’s one of them. By her own logic, why would she think Ben would ever want to hang out with _her?_

“Yeah,” she smiles, defeated. “Sure. No problem.”

Another couple blocks roll by before he surprises her.

“So… I’m the half friend?”

“What?”

“Are you saying we’re friends, Rey?” His smile is teasing, but in equal measure soft. Oddly intimate. Her heart contracts a little.

“I didn’t mean— well, you know, I said ‘by definition.’ Why, do you— do you want that?” 

He pulls to the curb in front of her building and puts the car in park. 

“I think what I want is irrelevant at this point.”

His eyes catch and focus on something out the window behind her. 

Rey turns. It’s Finn, walking and texting with his head down towards their building, bopping along with his big white headphones. Coming back from his Sunday study group, probably. She watches him until he disappears into the building, an uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach that she can’t identify an exact reason for. When she turns back, Ben’s eyes are settled on her— a little too cautious, too level, too calm.

“Bye, Rey.”

It doesn’t feel right to go away. She doesn’t want to. “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.”

She can’t get herself make a move to leave. Ben doesn’t prompt her to, so she stays. The stillness of the car makes the space seem smaller, closer, quieter. They sit together in silence for almost a full minute, neither of them acknowledging the strangeness of it. Both just letting it be.

‘ _You feel it, too,’_ he’d said to her the first time they really spoke. He’d stroked her cheek, dropped the sentence like a bomb, and left before she could respond.

It had made her afraid, then. She’d been angry with him for doing it in the first place, but mostly afraid— afraid that he was right and, if he was, _terrified_ of whatever that would mean. 

She didn’t realize then how much could change in a matter of days.

“Are you alright?” Ben asks quietly. 

Oh. She’d been staring at him.

Rey ignores the question and grabs her purse, her keys from the inside pocket, her phone. Clears her throat, opens the passenger door, steps outside. Before closing it again, she quickly leans down, barreling her way through the sick-anxious feeling that comes with saying what she’s decided to say.

“I think you should work at the center. You were good today and Isabelle wants you to. She likes you.”

Every muscle in her body is tensed, ready to be disappointed. Maybe humiliated.

But he just sort of laughs, a crooked smile on his face. “Okay.”

“…Okay?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”

Rey doesn’t know what to say. She clearly wasn’t expecting that. “Oh. That’s— that’s great. Uh, I guess if you need help with Amilyn or anything, text me. Or just help. In general.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Rey nods. “Yeah. I’ll see you, then.”

“I’ll see you.” 

Smiling, she shuts the door.

Climbing the stairs to her floor, Rey thinks of what he said right before they were distracted by Finn.

_‘What I want is irrelevant at this point.’_

She wishes she’d asked what he meant by that. It sounded so… fatalistic. 

It was like some indication that he was resigned to _something_ between the two of them. Resigned to something— or maybe expecting it. Like he’s just waiting for what he knows is going to happen to happen. 

The only thing she could guess going off of that interpretation is something she doesn’t even want to consider. Ben seems to clearly understand and respect the fact that she’s with Finn. He’s good like that, and she’s grateful for it. She needs it from him. Besides— he hasn’t even necessarily said or done anything that could prove that he is or ever was interested in her like that in the first place. She might just need to get over herself.

Still. _‘It_ is _you,’_ a whisper reminds her. 

She sees Ben in the snow again, awestruck with eyes gleaming. She remembers the deep, nameless feeling rooting them both in place. ‘ _It is you,’_ flickered across his face. _‘It is you,’_ rippled through the air. _‘It is you,’_ murmured his voice in her mind.

It wasn’t, though. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t real. It’s confusing, but it doesn’t count.

Before today she would’ve stopped herself from wondering about it— about _him._ She was afraid of the madness that would accompany it. 

Now she allows herself a slice. 

Throughout the rest of the day, all the way into the black of sleep that night, Rey lets go. Rey wonders, wonders, wonders. 

She’ll find a way inside his head. She’ll get there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "On the Sea" by Beach House [(x)](https://youtu.be/WJsSabXaunw)
> 
> I had an unusually hard time with this chapter and am still a little frustrated with the pacing tbh, but I'm definitely learning a lot through it wow wow wow! I rewrote the living daylights of this thing but I think I'm at the point now where I may actually perish if I don't move on lol
> 
> ANYWAYS the POV pattern is 3/3/3, etc., if you're wondering! I recognize it's kind of unusual but I have my reasons— it'll probably be frustrating at times, but that's all part of it 😈
> 
> thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> also, twitter! [@](https://twitter.com/wickedtempered)wickedtempered :)


	6. that's more like it

After that day at the aquarium, Rey starts to remember her dreams.

They don’t feel like dreams, really, but there’s no closer word. Maybe… little windows.

Sunday’s window shows her a cold-looking ocean in the rain. No one around. A blank grey sky. Her hand, reaching to collect some of the water in her palm. It’s cold and alive and she smiles, shaking her hand rid of it. A perfect quiet moment.

All throughout her two morning shifts, Rey can’t get the idea of rain from her mind. The serenity of it, but also the otherness.

Rose comments that she seems distracted during their break at Kanata’s. Han doesn’t comment anything at Ace’s. 

In her evening class, she jolts awake out of another small window, this one opening over something completely different— a desert.

It’s wide open, with mountainous husks of metal half-buried in the sand scattered throughout the distance.

As they’re both finishing up homework at the table that night, Rey interrupts the silence to ask Finn if he’s ever been to the desert.

“No,” he says, nonplussed by the random question, followed by a sigh. “The furthest I’ve ever been from here is Florida.”

“Oh yeah,” Rey remembers. “Abe’s wedding?” He came back home with three stitches in his hand from a stupid party foul. She had to help him with the wound care for weeks.

“Yeah. Always wanted to go, though. But hell, I want to go everywhere.”

Rey smiles. “Well, me too.”

“We will. We’ll see everything. I know it.” With his laptop tucked under an arm, he stands and starts towards bed, affectionately swatting her ponytail on his way. “Just… maybe someplace else first, though.”

“Sure,” she agrees. The word floats out of her, an echo. “Someplace else.”

Rey sits and stares at the table for a long time after he’s gone. 

Those metal husks in the sand… they were like carcasses made of steel, except the size of buildings. All just poorly buried and forgotten, like some unending mass grave. 

It reminds her of a poem she read in an English class once. _Ozymandias._ In it, there used to be a gargantuan statue of a king that stood surrounded by his flourishing desert civilization— a symbol of prosperity and of his kingly might. 

The only thing that remains when the narrator finds it is the inscription at the base.

_My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;_

_Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair._

And there’s nothing left but the words. No works, no civilization, no Ozymandias. All is lost and forgotten to time and sand.

It’s unpleasant to think of, unlike the dream of the rain. She thinks of it anyway because it fascinates her, but there’s an undeniable piece of her that just wants to look away. To forget. 

This urge only gets stronger after Monday night’s dream.

She remembers snippets from two windows this time. The first stars Finn. Or, rather, a dreamland version of him.

They crouch together in a crawlspace as harsh voices exchange above. The ridged metal floor bites in her bony knees and palms as they wait silently, listening. Hearts pounding. There’s sweat on his face. She remembers thinking she’s glad she’s not alone.

The second window is less exciting. No one else is there with her in this one. There isn’t any kind of action at all.

All it is is… a wall. A big, rusty, metal wall with thousands of tallies scratched into it. 

But it lasts _forever._ As she sits there, time melts into a puddle, formless and indecipherable. The marks fill every corner or her vision. They take up more space than she can fathom, seemingly infinite.

Rey wants to wake up. She tries again and again, but she can’t. She can only stare at the wall. And stare. And stare. It feels like she stares for years. The little lines blur every time she tries to count them and yet she still keeps starting over like she _has_ to, each time more desperate than the last. 

When she wakes up Tuesday, her pillowcase is damp. 

She feels betrayed more than anything. Her secret little window brought her a _nightmare—_ a cruel and unusual one. Maybe it was naïve to think it would only ever bring her nice things, but it feels now like some sort of trust has been broken.

She has to drag herself into the shower. Into the kitchen for coffee. Into her clothes. _Rueing_ everything, off-balance and sapped.

Then, gathering her things for the day, she remembers—it’s Tuesday. Ben said he was coming to the shop today. 

Thank fuck.

Enough life returns to her to pull herself from the fog and get moving.

On her way to Ace’s, Rey wonders how Han will react to seeing him. She never told him anything past _“Ben said to say he’s coming back later”_ last Thursday. She didn’t tell him about the aquarium, either. She could have yesterday, but she didn’t. 

She could argue that she didn’t say anything about it because it’s not her place to, nor is it her responsibility to act as some liaison between the two of them, but in truth it was more than that. It was anxiety. Anxiety over what Han would think of her suddenly having so much contact with _his_ estranged son— more contact than he’s getting.

What would she even tell him?

Well, she ran into his son at a bar. He heard about her volunteering and decided to join. They subsequently spent Sunday together. 

It’s all very normal, very acceptable. Mundane, even. 

Still, for some reason, it wouldn’t feel like an acceptable explanation to give Han. It’s the truth, of course, but the truth feels… not entirely honest. And she doesn’t like that, not when it comes to Han.

Best to leave the explaining to Ben.

She’s taken by surprise when she sees his car in the driveway of the shop upon arrival. They don’t even technically open for another fifteen minutes.

Slowly Rey enters the building, the little bell on the door announcing her presence. 

Han’s voice shouts. “Back here!”

She starts down the hall to see Han and, sure enough, Ben sitting across from each other at the break table in the back office. 

Ben turns in his chair, relief all over his face. “Rey.”

She barely stops herself from laughing out loud at the drama of it, glancing between the two of them to try and figure out what she’s dealing with.

Han is smiling. It’s genuine. He’s being rather cool about it, really, but he’s actually kind of glowing. Ben is the one freaking out. His hand is gripping the side of his chair, knuckles white.

“Hey. You’re here early,” she says, creasing her brow at Ben in question. _What’s wrong?_ “How long have you guys…?”

“You wouldn’t believe it,” Han answers first. “Found him just sitting his car when I got here an hour ago.” He nods to Ben, who winces slightly. “So I dragged him out to take a look.”

Oh god. They’ve been alone together for an hour. They’ve been trying to talk to each other for an _hour_. No wonder Ben looked at her like that.

“Ah. I see. And?”

Han leans back in his chair with his styrofoam cup of coffee, triumphant. “It was a leak in the power steering fluid.”

Rey drops her bag and coat in the corner and turns, frowning. “Really?”

“Yeah. Easy fix.”

“Are… are you sure?” She would’ve noticed some kind of symptom in his car last weekend if that was really the case.

Han scowls. “I’m sure. I fixed it.”

Oh. Well, she was pretty distracted that afternoon. 

She drops into the chair next to Ben, telepathically willing him to calm down. He does, letting go of his death grip on the chair and facing Han again once she’s beside him. 

“O- _kay,”_ she concedes. “So what now, are we just holding him hostage?”

“No,” Han rolls his eyes. “Figured we could do an oil change while he was here. Just catching up with some coffee first.”

“Yeah?” She looks sideways at Ben, who looks sideways back and shrugs. 

The little smile on his face her makes it feel like they’re in together on some inside joke. Rey doesn’t know what it is, but she finds herself smiling back. It’s impossible not to.

While it still makes her feel see-through to be looked at by him, it’s not in a way that makes her want to look away anymore. Not in a way that makes her want him to stop.

When she turns forward again, Han is looking at them strange.

“Uh— so, oil change?” she prompts, feeling warm in the face. “Are we gonna do that, then?”

Han tilts back the rest of his cup. “Yeah. Let’s do it.” 

It takes Han less than twenty minutes to do the job, but Ben sticks around after he’s done. Han doesn’t act like it, but he’s very excited about this. Rey can tell. It makes her heart ache.

She still can’t believe he never mentioned Ben. In her four years of knowing Han, of all the hours spent together, through all the crazy life-changing shit he’s helped her through, he never once mentioned something so large a part of his life as having a kid. It kind of stings, if she’s honest, but it just goes to show that whatever happened must’ve cut deep. 

But here they are now. Hanging out.

She brings the paperwork she has to go through today from the office out into the garage so she can be there too. After clearing a space for herself, she sits cross-legged on a workbench and gets cracking. She keeps the radio next to her on low, though, so that she can still overhear their conversation if she focuses. 

She doesn’t want to impose… but she can’t help her own curiosity, either.

Ben sits and watches Han work on his own pet project, an old Cadillac he bought off someone for practically nothing. They don’t talk much, but when they do it’s about the car itself or mechanics in general. Nothing relevant to them, nothing about their lives, nothing constructive. It’s a form of hiding, if you ask Rey, but it’s better than nothing. It’s just very… well. Men.

The closest they get to anything real is when Han asks Ben if he remembers something he taught him.

“I showed you how to do this once,” he’ll say intermittently, or something like it. “You remember?”

And then Ben will respond, “Not really,” or “Don’t think so,” or “Vaguely.”

After a couple hours of this, however, Ben finally answers differently.

“Actually— yeah, you know, I— can I see that?”

Rey looks up curiously to see Ben shrugging off his coat. Han hands him whatever tool.

“Can I—?”

Han shrugs graciously, moving back. “Go ahead.”

Ben starts in on the underside of the Cadillac, his movements quick and decisive. All is quiet apart from the quiet oldies on the radio and the sound of soft metal tinkering. She can’t see what he’s doing from across the garage but she wishes she could. She peers around another car as best she can to watch.

“Like that?” he asks, sitting up.

Han laughs, incredulous. “You do remember.”

“Guess so.” Ben pushes back his hair, smudging a tiny bit of dark grease on his forehead. “Just… took me a second.”

Rey smiles down into her lap. Cute.

Not long after that, Ben wanders over. He stops next to her, head tilted at the invoice in her lap, hands in his pockets.

“You always have this much… paperwork?”

Rey sits up a little straighter. “Well, I’m better at it than Han. Faster. And he’s horrible with the digital part.”

“Mm,” he acknowledges. “I hope they don’t make you do that at the center, too.”

Rey _hmphs._ “They don’t.” Like they’d let her. They’d have to move her past volunteer for that.

“Good.”

Rey looks up and narrows her eyes. “Wait— did you…?”

He smiles. 

“You did?”

He nods.

Rey claps excitedly. She might even get up and hug him right now if not for the small stacks of paper balancing on each of her knees.

_He did it. He actually did it._ He wasn’t just humoring her before.

“When?” she demands. “When do you work?”

He leans against the workbench. “I don’t have a regular schedule yet, but Holdo put me in to work later today.”

“ _I_ work later today!” she exclaims, like it’s the biggest coincidence in the world. Given the typical shift schedule and the small bank volunteers, it’s really not, but still. 

Also, did he just call Amilyn “Holdo?”

“Well, thank god,” he says in joking relief.

“I’ll help you. Don’t worry. No one of those little twerps will give you any trouble— they _respect_ me.”

His smile opens into a grin at her callback, so earnest it beams. The pure energy from it could probably heal wounds. Thaw ice. End wars.

When her shift ends, he insists on giving her a ride with him. It’s an opportunity to skip the bus, so she accepts.

She tries her best to explain the dynamics between all the other volunteers he’ll be meeting on the drive there. Ben is clearly not used to gossip, but he seems plenty entertained when she fills him in on it. He asks lots of questions. Sometimes she suspects it’s more to give her reason to talk and him to listen than genuine interest in the others.

Jannah greets them when they arrive and helps acclimate Ben to the layout of the place. The recreational center is pretty big, so even though only the back part of it is dedicated to the youth program, there’s still some ground to cover.

“There’s Amilyn’s office, which I’m sure you know by now,” Jannah points.

“The other two are for the other admins,” Rey adds. Poe has one of them.

They pass the offices and cut through the study rooms.

“Kids can schedule tutoring sessions here if they need them,” Jannah says, leading them further. “But honestly, most of the time our job here is just to sort of… hang out with them.”

They emerge into the main area— a room the size of a small school assembly hall with lots of nooks and areas organized by interest. Library, art, games, even a small kitchen up front.

“Most the kids who come here, especially those who come every day, want that— to hang out. Just be. We don’t like to push them unless they need it. Most of them come straight from school during the week, so they’ve already had a lot of interaction.” She smiles and gestures to Addy, who’s passed out in a bean bag chair with a book splayed open on her chest. “But others—”

“Ben?!” Tony calls from their left, running in from outside. He has a basketball under one arm and a massive grin.

“—others are just getting started,” Jannah finishes, gesturing towards exhibit A.

“No way!” Tony jogs across the room, narrowly avoiding tripping over someone’s shoes. “D’you work here now?”

“Uh— yes. Kind of.”

Tony’s smile gets brighter. “Cool! Wanna play basketball?”

Ben turns to Rey and, while his face is placid, she can sense his panic.

She shoves him a little, smirking. He needs to be thrown in the deep end for a while. She knows he’ll swim.

“You’ll be fine.”

He nods and swallows, then goes.

Tony starts talking rapid-fire as soon as he has Ben’s ear. As the two turn the corner and disappear into the yard, Jannah turns around and slaps Rey on the arm.

Rey, not expecting it, flinches. “Ow!”

“Rey!” she hisses, smiling. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me about him?”

“About Ben? I did!”

“You didn’t tell me he was _hot!”_

Rey’s stomach sinks. “What?” 

“Shit!” Jannah laughs, quickly checking around her to make sure no kids heard. Rey watches her blankly, feeling oddly horrified. “Sorry. Just— wow.”

“What ‘wow?’ Ben ‘wow?’” 

“Um, _yeah._ ” She squints a little to try and see outside the tinted windows across the room.

“Oh. Sorry. Didn’t realize you wanted me to report on that kind of thing with new recruits.”

“Oh, please,” Jannah says, hand on her hip. “You know I don’t, but come on. _That’s_ just different.” She points outside. “You _have_ to know that is different.”

“No,” Rey says stubbornly. “I don’t.”

“Rey,” Jannah tilts her head, then sighs and laughs. “I love you.” 

It’s genuine, but equally as patronizing. Rey pretends not to notice. Sweet Rey wouldn’t notice. Wouldn’t be offended. Wouldn’t want to rip her head off.

“Love you too.”

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

It takes everything in Rey not to snap _yes_ purely to end the conversation. She makes herself relax.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “But I don’t think so.”

Jannah nods, absorbing the information. “Just curious.”

Hell. Maybe Ben and Jannah would… get along. 

They’re both thoughtful and funny, not to mention exceedingly attractive. Jannah is a genuinely good person, and a patient one. If he really wants to be ‘better,’ then there’s no better person to show him. 

Besides, if they dated, he’d probably be around more. He’d be less likely to disappear. Rey likes that. She likes that a lot, actually.

She’s only beginning to scheme when Jannah interrupts.

“I know this is a weird question, but does he… know about Finn?”

Rey looks over, brow furrowed. “What about Finn? That he’s my boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, they met last weekend. Why?”

Jannah works through something in her head in silence. It’s there, right behind her eyes, clicking and turning and spinning where Rey can see it. 

But she just repeats herself. “Just curious.”

“Why?” Rey repeats right back at her, still stubborn but now nervous.

“I don’t know. He just…” She waves her hand around, trying to come up with words. “…Looks… at you? I mean, it’s not bad, but it’s just like—”

“Oh,” Rey interrupts with a laugh, relieved. It’s just that. “Yeah, I know what you’re talking about. Don’t worry, he’s just like that. He’s just a little weird.”

Jannah accepts this, backing off. 

“Alright— fine by me. We’re all a little weird, right?” she shrugs good-naturedly. Her eyes fix across the room. “Think you can help me with Kat?”

Rey turns and sees the pouty nine year old sitting in the doorway, blocking all the traffic coming to and from the yard. Her go-to spot for attention.

“Yeah, you’re gonna need it. Let’s go.”

Ben and Rey’s paths don’t cross for the rest of their shift. She doesn’t see him at all, actually. So, when the center is about fifteen minutes from close and only a handful of kids remain waiting to be picked up, Rey decides to go looking for him. Her back and fingers are sore from mindless friendship-braceleting for way too long. She’s grateful for the reason to stand.

Peeking out into the yard and around the corner, she spots him sitting at a table with Tony and a blonde boy his age, Eric. Their basketball sits forgotten on the table as they talk. She’s not visible from the doorway, so she takes the opportunity to hang back a moment to listen in on how things are going.

“My cousin told me all you need is one good punch,” Tony is telling Ben eagerly. “That way it’s over fast."

Not this again. Tony’s been trying to man up recently. Last week he asked Poe for girl advice— a _twelve_ year-old.

Ben shakes his head. “No. You shouldn’t be punching anyone.”

Rey leans against the doorframe, smiling a little with silent approval.

It’s Eric, this time. “But what if you need to?” 

“You shouldn’t need to.”

“What? No,” Tony complains. “Sometimes you need to, right? You have to defend yourself.”

Ben sighs heavily.

Rey should go over there and help. She should… but she doesn’t. She wants to see what’ll happen if she lets this play out.

“Violence isn’t for fun.”

“Yeah, I _know_ that.”

“You sounded pretty excited about it just now.”

“I’m not!” Tony exclaims, then, quickly and more calmly, “I’m— I’m not.”

Eric chimes in. “Yeah, we just wanna know. For safety. Boston is scary.”

“You just said you were thinking about fighting that Brandon guy, specifically.”

Ben doesn’t talk to kids like they’re kids, she notices. He straight-up talks to them like adults. It’s kind of hilarious.

“Yeah, but he deserves it.”

“Why does he deserve it?”

The boys look at each other nervously.

“Well?”

“My sister,” Tony says. “He made her cry. She won’t tell me what happened but I think he put bad photos of her online. I heard some of the older kids talk about it.”

Ben is quiet for a moment, then asks, “Older? How old is he?”

“Fifteen.”

“Hm.” 

“I asked my teacher about it but he said to let the adults handle it. But the adults never handle it. They don’t even now how to use the internet.”

“Hm.”

“He told me keeping the peace was the most important thing I could do now.”

Ben huffs a dark laugh at this. He looks between the two of them for a while, then crosses his arms. “Well, your cousin’s wrong.”

Tony perks up. “He is?”

“Needing ‘one good punch’ means you’re already fighting.” He leans forward on his elbows, voice lowered. “Means you’re already losing. You have to win before they know it starts.”

“Really? How?”

Ben opens his mouth to respond and Rey, having a very bad feeling about whatever’s about to come out, lunges forward.

“Hey guys!” she calls across the short distance, abruptly cutting him off. “Hi! Hello! How’s it going?”

Three faces turn, three sets of guilty eyes blink at her in the fading light. No one answers.

“Right. Well, Tony, I think your mom’s here,” she says, just to get him to leave. 

Tony stands and grabs the basketball, sulking his way inside. “Fine. See ya, Ben.”

Eric follows close behind his friend, not wanting to be left alone outside with two adults.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that,” she says once they’re alone, standing over him.

He puts his hands together neatly in his lap, saying nothing at first.

Rey says nothing, too, arms crossed.

The yellowy street lights flicker on on the other side of the center’s fence, casting long shadows across the yard.

“Sorry.”

Rey’s mouth twists into a smile. “Honestly, Poe’s done much worse." 

As long as Tony doesn’t get beat up on Ben’s account, it’ll be fine. She’ll tell Amilyn about his sister to make sure the parents have a handle on it. It could be good that she overheard, at the end of the day. It’s hard to get kids to talk about that kind of stuff unless they offer it first.

She sits across from him, letting it go. “How was your first day?”

“Good.”

“Nobody bit you?”

He shakes his head, alarmed. “What?”

“Oh. Nothing.”

“Wait, is that something I should be worried about?”

“Mm… no, I think you should be fine.”

“You _think_?” 

“I’m messing with you.” 

She leaves out the part about Jannah actually getting bit last week. Best not to spook him.

He continues looking horrified for a moment, then laughs, looking down at his hands in his lap. “Ha. Right.”

His eyelashes cast delicate shadows down one side of his face, the other lost in shadow. 

Rey stares. There are so many things she wants to say. 

She wants to ask him if he’ll meet everyone else now. If he thinks Jannah is pretty. If he’s really, really going to stay. But, looking at him now, it all gets stuck in her throat. 

So they sit in their easy silence together, listening to the cars on the street and the kids leaving with their parents one by one inside.

Ben props his head up in one hand and lets the other relax on the table.

“Are you happy here?” he says quietly. 

She lifts her eyes to his. They’re gentle and serious. 

“Here?” she asks. “Like…”

“Here.”

She knows he’s not talking about the volunteer gig. She can see it in his eyes.

“I like my life, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Do you?”

She frowns at him. “Yes.”

“What do you like about it?”

As seems to be standard with him, the request is unusual and completely out of nowhere. But, as seems to be standard with her, now, she doesn’t question it.

From the very corner of her eye, Rey notices his hand on the table softly close into a fist and flex open again. She lets her gaze gravitate to where it rests. 

“Well, I like my my job here.”

Some idle part of her wants to take it, to skim over his knuckles, his fingers, his palm, to learn its texture. Just to know. That’s all. 

Sometimes you see something and you just want to know.

“And my job with Han, of course. I have him, my boyfriend, my friends. I mean, I live in a real apartment, I’m getting my degree, I have a sense of purpose,” she laughs a little. “And ultimately… I’m safe, you know? Roof over my head, food to eat, all that.”

Ben isn’t going to accept this, she knows. It’s not strong enough of an argument for him. He’s deliberately fishing for something and, while Rey doesn’t exactly know what it is, she refuses to bite.

She smiles to herself, thinking. She’ll speak from the heart— something she knows she’s better at than he is. Something irrefutable and fundamental, something he won’t be able to easily negate. She’ll make it good, lay it on thick.

“But really just the fact that I’m alive, right? Seriously— the fact that you and I and everyone else gets to wake up on this planet every day with a fresh chance is crazy. And if we fuck up those chances, or we’re not actually ‘happy’ all the time, it’s _still_ okay, because we have the rest of our lives to figure it out, you know? I'm young. Nothing’s permanent. Besides, the people I love are all alive and well, so… I don’t know. If all we have are our lives and each other, then I have both. I don’t see why I shouldn’t be happy, honestly. Does _that_ appropriately answer your question?”

Rey believes her words, even if something about them rings slightly hollow in her chest as she says them. She can be insightful when she tries. And hard to argue with.

But, when she lifts her gaze to gauge Ben’s reaction, Rey’s stomach plummets.

She only gets a split-second glimpse of the look in his eyes before he drops them, but it’s enough to stun her _._

“Oh my god.” _Fuck._ “Ben. I’m— I’m sorry,” Rey stutters, not understanding exactly what she’s apologizing for, but unable to stop. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” he dismisses. He sounds fine, but he also doesn’t look up from the table. “It’s an admirable perspective. You… have what you need. Clearly. That’s good.”

_He lost someone,_ she panics, putting it together— what she said, how he looked. _You insensitive idiot, he clearly fucking lost someone. Probably recently._

It explains a _lot._

And she just delivered a self-absorbed monologue about her loved ones being not-fucking-dead. 

Not knowing what to say, Rey starts to reach her hand towards his, but he takes it off the table before she can make contact. 

Maybe it’s a coincidence. Maybe he doesn’t want her to touch him.

Rey stares, mouth half-open, mind spinning.

_“All done!”_ Jannah shouts triumphantly from inside.

Both their heads turn in her direction. The sound of the master set of keys jingles about in a celebratory way. The signal— time to go home. 

Wide-eyed, Rey looks back to Ben. She can’t leave it like this. She can’t.

He doesn’t look upset with her, though. He doesn’t even look sad anymore. He just sort of looks… focused. Surprisingly so.

He stands. “Let me take you home.”

“Oh— thanks, but—”

“Please.” There’s a note in his voice that stretches past plain politeness. It wavers so subtly that she could be imagining it.

Rey, taken aback, stands slowly. His face is all in shadow at this angle; she has no way of reading him.

“Um… well, what I was going to say was thanks, but you don’t have to. Finn and Poe are picking me up. They usually do on Tuesdays.”

“Oh.” He takes half a step back, posture shifting out of that forward position. Like lifting out of a dream. “Good. I’m— I’m glad you’re not walking. Alone. At night.”

“Yeah,” Rey smiles tensely. “I won’t be. But thanks.”

They stand like that for another long, unsure moment. It’s terrible.

Then he clears his throat, and it all happens quite quickly. “I’ll see you, then.”

“Yeah. Good job today.”

“Thanks.” 

And, with a few strides, Ben disappears inside. Rey doesn’t move or breathe until she hears the main doors shut behind him, guilt and confusion swirling tight in her chest. 

***

That night, something new happens.

Through one of her windows, Rey has nightmare. A _real_ nightmare. 

She thought she’d had one before with that unending rusty wall with all the scratches, but it doesn’t even compare.

This window puts her into a cool, mossy forest. Everything feels alive, including the earth beneath her, which practically springs underfoot her as she runs.

But this is where the pleasantness ends, because soon Rey realizes she _is_ running. She’s running wildly, and not towards something, but away.

She has some sort of gun in her hand. It’s heavy and unfamiliar and fucking useless. No matter how focused her aim, no matter how advantageous a position she climbs herself into, it doesn’t hit her target. It doesn’t even deter it. 

The thing advances, and advances, and advances.

Rey reaches a point where there is no place left to run that will do anything but prolong the inevitable. A point at which she simply has to turn around and face the monster, summoning every ounce of bravery inside her from places she did not know it lived. 

She stumbles backwards in retreat, practically sobbing with panic between each breath. She shoots straight at the creature following only yards away, but her fire does nothing. The thing moves steadily, calmly, almost patiently towards her _._

Finally it tires of the chase. A slash of bright red whips violently through the air in its hand, just as the other snaps out towards her with outstretched fingers.

Instantly all control Rey has over her own body is gone. She’s frozen. There’s some sort of horrifying magic keeping her completely and totally locked in place.

The creature continues to advance, slow and sure. Dread, impossibly thick and heavy, fills Rey’s every vein. The creature is relishing this moment, the lazy power of it. She can feel its sickening _cockiness_ rolling towards her.

Every inch of its skin is methodically covered with differently textured layers of black fabric. Some flowing, some tight, all menacing. Its hands wear black leather gloves, its neck a high-cut guard, its face a cold silver-black mask staring at her from at under a heavy hood.

The fiery red sword in its hand crackles so violently she’s afraid it will explode. She knows if she is to die here and now, this will be the instrument to do it. This will be her end.

The creature gets right in her face, so close she can see all the chips and dents in its helmet. Its voice— _his_ voice— is deep and human, but distorted. The meaning of the words themselves are muffled to her by the dream, or maybe just by her fear.

Finally he relents by getting out of her face and moving past her— but it’s a false lull. 

The next moment the crackling weapon is inches from her face, ready to strike.

Disembodied, _We have what we need_.

Rey jolts awake, heart hammering in her throat.

She practically falls out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom. Still not entirely in her senses, she lets out a little scream when she catches sight of her own reflection in the dark.

Rey tries to remember the breathing method Rose taught her as she fumbles for the faucet. 

_Four counts in, four counts hold, four counts out, four counts hold._

She tries, but she can’t do it. She can’t. Her body won’t let her.

Instead, she splashes her face with ice cold water over and over, then leans down and starts guzzling from it.

It helps.

But, in her ears, she can still hear that blood red crackling.

***

Throughout her shift at Kanata’s, she hears it in the machines. She keeps imagining that the second they turn off, the crackling will have been underneath it the whole time. She listens for it, paranoid. She listens so hard that she takes five separate orders down wildly incorrectly in half an hour. Rose makes her trade stations with her after the fifth.

In Econ, it’s in the projector that hides the sound. It’s much quieter, but she’s sure she can hear it if she focuses. The problem with focusing on a low hum in a boring class, however, is that it tends to make one sleepy, and Rey starts to drift off. But she can’t. She _can’t_ fall asleep. 

She can’t face that creature again, than man-like thing, whatever he is, whatever she does. Last night she didn’t let herself go back to sleep for that very reason, despite it only being two fifteen in the morning when she awoke. And while having gotten only three hours of sleep is not making her life any easier, she manages it. She stays awake.

At least after everything today, Rey gets to see her friends after class. They’re scheduled to meet like they always do in their favorite study room in the library, the one with the big window looking out onto the quad. Rey is the first one there. It starts lightly raining just as she settles, which gives her a small amount of peace.

Rose is the next to show up. Rey hugs her extra tight when she walks in, relieved. It was only this morning that they last saw each other, but it feels like so long ago to Rey. She’s been barely hanging on since.

Jannah is next, followed by Finn and Poe— the entire self-proclaimed Orphan Squad, assembled. Poe is an honorary member, of course. His family’s cabin is where the “squad” is all going to spend most of Winter break.

It was Rose’s idea, initially. Last year she joked that since they had such an abnormal amount of orphans in their friend group with nowhere special to go for the holidays, they should just rent a place and spend it together. Everyone loved the idea, and so they figured something out and made it happen. 

It didn’t go perfectly— the heating system in their airbnb stopped working on Christmas Eve and they all had to drive back into the city to cram into a couple of dorm rooms together for the rest of break, but it was still amazing. Rey had never experienced anything so magical.

It should go much smoother this year, though, now that Poe has entered the group. His family is going to be in Europe for the holidays, so he offered them both the pleasure of his company and the use of his fancy cabin for the break. It’s been the topic of discussion for weeks.

As they settle around the study table, everyone starts jabbering about last minutes plans they have yet to make and how to make them. They still have finals to push through next week, but pretty much right after, they leave. 

Soon, though, the topic exhausts itself and conversations shoot off in more irrelevant directions. It’s all light-hearted, but in the noise of the overlapping jokes and arguments and general excitement… Rey starts to hear it again. 

The crackling.

She knows she’s imagining it. She _knows_. It’s probably because she’s not letting herself remember the dream. Her unconscious is letting it seep in through sound instead— imagined sound. 

But she swears, the more she listens… the harder she tries…

Ten minutes pass.

Rey only realizes it when she randomly catches sight of the clock on the wall. 

She’s been sitting here next to the window, silent, listening to nothing for ten minutes. No one has said anything to her in that time, too absorbed in their conversations to notice.

Rey tries her hardest to ground herself back into reality by tuning into one.

Okay, here we go. Rose. Rose is teasing Poe about a recent Instagram post. No, try someone else. Okay. Jannah is trying to convince Finn not to take a specific honors class. And now Poe is telling her to stop, that Finn is a smart boy. Now Rose is telling Poe it isn’t about being smart, but about managing workload. Now Poe is suddenly laughing at his phone, showing Finn, and Finn is groaning in response. Rose is demanding to see, and Jannah is asking Finn what he thought bout what that one girl said in that one class that one day. And now Poe is demanding to know what they’re talking about, sniffing gossip, and Rose asks if this is about what she thinks it’s about and Finn says no, you weren’t there that day. And Jannah starts in on a story Rey can’t make herself care about, and it goes on. And on. And on. And on. And on.

All the while, Rey still imagines the crackling.

She feels unreal. Like a ghost. Or maybe they’re the ghosts and she’s the real one. 

Outside the window, the rain is coming down harder. The clouds have made everything dark like night, even though it’s only afternoon. Rey props her chin on her fist and watches it come down, the sound of her friends behind her fading. 

Just like that, with frightening ease, the world around her glitches.

Where there were once sidewalks, grass, a flagpole, a bookstore, and a few soaked students jogging to their next buildings, there is now horror.

Dead bodies are strewn about the earth around her. Hard rain pelts down on their motionless forms from the blue-black sky above. A slaughter.

When she looks up, her chest seizes in true terror. It’s her nightmare, multiplied. 

It’s him. Again.

The masked man with the sword of vicious red light is there, feet away, and he sees her, too. He turns his head and looks straight at her. There’s no cloak or hood over his head this time, and it makes him scarier somehow. She can see the natural form of him, his stature, the way he holds himself, and it reads ruthless.

Flanked on either side of him are six other masked, black-clad creatures with barbaric-looking weapons of their own, all drenched to the bone by the rain. None of them seem to bother to react to her, but _he_ has.

She can’t see his face, of course, but the way he turned his head at first made him seem almost surprised to see her there. Like she wasn’t supposed to be.

Crackling red sword by his side, he moves. He takes one hard purposeful step towards her, then another, and then—

Then she’s back in the warm study room, staring out the window at the quad. 

The rain is just a drizzle now.

The light voices of her friends are still filling the room, running and tripping over each other, punctuated with laughs and groans. Slowly, she turns to them.

Her face must be white as a sheet. She can feel her heartbeat in the roof of her mouth. Her palms are damp with sweat. Her mind reels and stutters, terrified and confused.

This isn’t _like_ before. She’s not just seeing glimpses of interesting places or familiar faces or random things anymore. Both awake and asleep, she’s being followed by a nightmare in the form of a man.

Her friends are discussing Bumble versus Hinge. Poe is showing Jannah one of his accounts— flirting, as always, even when he doesn’t mean it. Finn is scowling, snatching away the phone. Everyone laughs.

And Rey realizes she can simply never tell them. Never.

Her shaky terror turns red. Everything does. Every muscle in her body is coils to spring.

“I just remembered,” she says aloud, calm and detached. She wants to scream— at them, at her herself, at anything at all. “I have to go talk to my Econ teacher. About an assignment that I missed.”

They all look over at her. It must’ve been twenty minutes since she last spoke, and judging by the looks on their faces, they’re all just realizing that now. She swallows.

“Oh,” Finn says gently. She hates it. “Are you— really? Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I’m good. Thanks, though,” she says, standing. What she wants is to grab her chair and swing it as hard as she can at the plate glass. She wants to watch the evil window shatter. She wants all of them to flinch back, to see her, to be afraid. Just once. Just for a moment. “My bad. I’ll catch you guys soon, okay?”

They all give carefully supportive-sounding variations of “Yeah, okay, text us,” nodding sweetly at Sweet Rey.

With a tight smile, Rey slips out of the study room and into the main library. Halfway to the doors, she starts running.

She bursts outside, running even harder. It’s not raining anymore but there’s still a cool mist that clings to her skin. With every hard step on the pavement, the combination of the mist and the air and the light from the sky gains more and more leverage over the dark feeling in her bones. It starts to overtake take the feeling, to push it out, so she keeps going. She passes the bookstore. The science building. The sports complex. 

Rey only slows to a stop once she gets to the west parking lot. There, she simply stands out in the open, breathing hard, head tilted to the sky. Only one image forms against the back of her closed eyelids. Only one feeling, one thought.

Once her pulse lowers and she feels certain that no masked man is about to emerge from around some corner with a laser sword, Rey pulls out her phone. 

But he’s there already— the one notification waiting for her is from him.

> Ben Solo 
> 
> 1:10 PM
> 
> What sandwiches do mechanics like?

Rey laughs out loud. The sound is rough and sudden.

_Let it be put down in the history books that the first text Ben Solo ever sent me was a brusque inquiry about lunch preference._

She’d been so worried, thinking maybe she’d done irreversible damage last night.

Rey opens his contact and presses ‘call’ without hesitation, quickly wiping the tears from her cheeks.

He picks up rather hesitantly, sounding confused by the concept of answering. _“… Hello?”_

“Ben! It’s Rey.” She starts pacing along the painted line of a parking spot.

_“Oh— Rey. Hi.”_

“Is this a bad time?”

_“No.”_

“Good.” Full steam ahead. “What are you doing?”

_“What, right now?”_

“Yes, right now. What’re you doing?”

_“I’m walking my dog,”_ he answers cautiously, like he’s afraid it’s a trick question.

Rey stops cold, hand flying to her heart. “What?! You didn’t tell me you had a dog.”

_“I do. He’s great. But what’s going on? Are you okay?”_

“Yeah, fine.” She resumes pacing. “Can I meet him?”

_“Sure, if you want. I—”_

“Now?”

_“What?”_

“I want to meet your dog.”

_“I don’t under—”_

“Where are you?”

A pause. _“L Street Beach.”_

“I could be there in ten minutes.”

A longer pause. _“Okay.”_

“Okay,” Rey echoes, trying not to let him hear her relief. “I’ll find you.”

She hangs up before he can change his mind. 

***

Ben’s “dog” might actually be a small bear.

“His name is Grim.”

“That’s a _great_ name,” she laughs as Grim sniffs her face and hair with enthusiasm.

“Thanks,” Ben murmurs.

She’s heard people talk about dogs who embody their owners, but this is the first time she’s ever really seen it herself. Grim is happier and friendlier than Ben by nature of being, you know, a dog, but otherwise it’s kind of hilarious how similar they are. They’re two big, dark-haired, special blends of scary-pretty.

Rey stands from her crouch. She’s relieved that Ben definitely doesn’t seem uncomfortable or unhappy to see her. He does, however, seem a little bewildered.

To avoid his bewilderment, she takes her time looking around. It’s not a stunning beach by any means— maybe that’s just because it’s cold and wet and empty right now— but it’s sure prettier than most of the places she spends her time. The setting doesn’t really matter, though. Not at all. Not even a little.

“Wow!” she smiles. “I never come here. It’s nice.”

“Yeah. It’s—”

“Which way were you guys going?”

“Uh, we—”

“Because I don’t want to get in your way or anything— I’ll just tag along for a while and then I’ll leave you alone, don’t worry. Do you usually come this way? Do you live close? You probably live close.”

He opens his mouth to answer but more spills out of Rey before he can even start.

“And he probably needs a lot of walks, right? Big dogs need a lot of exercise. Unless that’s a fallacy I picked up somewhere. Maybe they don’t. I don’t know.” 

She starts walking in her best guess of the right direction. Grim lurches to keep up with her and Ben follows, tugged by the leash. 

“But you still probably walk here a lot, I’m sure. Seems like a good place. You probably know it really well by now— assuming you’ve been here I while, I mean. Which I don’t know, because I don’t know your deal. Obviously.” 

She does, in fact, know his deal. The only thing useful she gleaned from stalking his very sparse, protected social media accounts was the general impression that he’s lived here a while. 

“But I bet Grim loves it,” she continues. “There aren’t a lot of open spaces like this around. It’s pretty special. There’s a lot to look at, isn’t there?”

At her side now, Ben is staring down in blatant concern. He waits to see if she’s going to cut him off again and, when she doesn’t, answers slowly.

“Yes. To… all of that. And really, it’s fine, you’re welcome to walk with us. I want you to.”

Rey nods. “Right. Cool. Thanks.”

“Are you…?” he trails off, thinking twice about his next choice of words. He seems to realize that _“okay?”_ is not the right move. “Nevermind.” 

There’s a single moment of silence— and then Rey keeps talking.

Avoiding topics like _why did you call me?_ or _why are you here?_ or _what’s wrong with you?_ , Rey keeps up with his and Grim’s rather quick pace, telling him all about her day so far and asking him all about his.

It doesn’t sound like he does much. He struggles to answer the simplest of questions, like before. Maybe he’s just bad with questions. Or casual conversation in general. Still, she finds out that he saw his friend Hux, walked his dog, got food, and that was really it. Rey doesn’t have a much more exciting story to tell, to be fair. Especially since she has to omit the tiny detail of the living nightmare following her day and night.

She finally stops her stream of chatter when they reach what she assumes is his place, self-conscious of the imposition she’s posing all of a sudden. But Ben easily gestures for her to follow him up the walk, so she does. 

He looks down at her curiously once they reach the front step.

“Does it help?” he asks, like he really just wants to know. “The talking?”

Rey’s face warms and she looks away. He’s always noticing things you’re not supposed to notice and picking at things you’re not supposed to pick at.

“Help what?”

He simply ignores that. “Because it seems kind of painful.”

“It’s better than the alternative,” she mutters in defense.

“What’s the alternative?”

She looks up at him, scowling. 

His hair is semi-damp from the mist, with a few pieces sticking to his face. She hasn’t really looked at him since she got here, she realizes, not until now. Not fully. She was too jumpy before, too focused on her forward momentum. He was always in her periphery. Feels strange now. 

He’s waiting for her, eyes moving carefully around her face like he’s trying not to miss any detail, any hint of the truth.

“Probably losing my mind,” she tells him, ignoring the chill she gets. “And possibly destroying a perfectly good study room with my bare hands, screaming.”

He doesn’t laugh. “Have you tried that?”

“No, Ben, I haven’t.”

He unlocks the door, pushing inside. “Maybe you should.”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.”

Ben’s place is nice, as she suspected it would be. It’s understated in that quintessential rich-person sort of way— nothing necessarily screams wealth, but it’s there. Nothing shocking.

The energy inside is what’s unexpected. It’s very mixed. Large portions of the space are almost _too_ perfect and clean, while others look lived-in to the point of madness. It feels like the equivalent of what she imagines a really nice hotel room would be like if you let a couple of teenagers live in it for a week. Or maybe a mad genius.

In the far corner of the living room is an explosion of books, notepads, and sticky notes crawling up the walls. The arm chair in the center of it all is the only surface in a four-foot radius _not_ covered in paper or other piles of things. A similar situation is happening at the kitchen counter, where his laptop has been left open amidst what look like a bunch of handwritten charts and diagrams and lists.

“Sorry,” he mutters, sweeping the mess from the counter into his arms.

“No, I don’t care! Your place is really nice.”

_And warm. And smells good._ She closes the front door behind her, watching him quickly gather everything into a pile and shove it into a drawer of a built-in credenza-like thing in the kitchen.

She clears her throat a little. “And— I mean, I totally dropped in on you. So. You really don’t have to worry.”

Ben doesn’t respond. He’s looking around, running a hand through his hair, distracted. She lets it go to look around some more.

Grim starts shaking out his coat by a small gas fireplace in the living room. Rey gets the sudden urge to go over there and lay face-down next to him on the soft-looking rug. Maybe she could stay there and pet him until she forgot the outside world existed. Maybe he’d protect her from the monster if she gave into her exhaustion and fell asleep.

Suddenly there’s more frantic rustling of papers from the corner. It’s Ben, piling up all the chaos around his armchair like he did at the counter. Guilt twinges through her again, stronger.

“Hey, really, it’s okay— you don’t have to do that. I don’t want to make you move all your stuff just for appearances. It looks important. Are you writing a book or something?”

He huffs, peeling the sticky notes from the walls. “No. Definitely don’t have the patience for that.”

“Really? You seem pretty patient to me.”

He laughs out loud with his whole body like she made a joke.

“What?”

Ben turns, an astounded grin on his face. “I just— I don’t think anyone has ever used that word to describe me in my life.”

Then he shakes his head and crosses back to the kitchen with his new pile of papers.

_You’re patient with me,_ she thinks weakly, confused. She could argue him, but she doesn’t. Instead she goes and sits at the counter to watch him some more.

He offers her something to eat or drink, which she declines, but it turns out he had no right to in the first place. When he goes to grab his water pitcher from the fridge, she sees the inside.

Empty. Rey quickly sweeps the rest of the kitchen. Nothing on any surfaces. She realizes with horror that Ben Solo has _no_ food in his house. None. 

She demands to see what he does have. All he’s able to come up with is literally two dusty cans of chili, stale granola, and a gallon of expired milk— and that’s it.

Ben starts laughing at her as she gets mad at him for it.

“How do you live like this? Stop laughing!”

“This is _really_ bothering you.”

“Yes! How do you not at least have, like, a box of pasta or something?”

He shrugs. She grabs a thin rolled-up newspaper from the counter and chucks it at him. He catches it easily.

“Just because you can eat out whenever you feel like it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t keep some goddamn _fruit_ in your refrigerator!”

He tosses it back, still laughing, but she just throws it at him again, harder. It rebounds off his shoulder and flips into the air, falling straight back down into his hand like the universe was handing it to him. Without blinking, he starts twirling it in his fingers. He’s _weirdly_ dexterous for someone so big.

“I’ll buy some fruit if it’ll make you happy, Rey.”

Her heart stutters at the way he says her name. It’s only one syllable, said jokingly, and yet it feels more intimate than any arrangement of any words anyone else has ever said to her. He can’t be doing it on purpose. He can’t be. _So get over it._

“What do you do for fun, then, if you don’t write books or grocery shop?”

He drops the paper between them and leans over the counter opposite her. “Guess I’m still trying to figure that out.”

He must’ve been a workaholic. Doesn’t surprise her. 

“Fair.” She glances behind her at the big TV above the fireplace. “Then… what do you like to watch? We could watch something, maybe.” Then, quickly, she adds, “Only if you want. Also, feel free to kick me out whenever. I know I kind of hijacked your day so I won’t be offended, I’m just glad you—” 

She stops.

Ben just waits.

“…Picked up,” she decides to finish after a moment. “So. Thanks.”

Their silences melt together. His eyes are too honest.

“I’ll always pick up.” 

All joking is gone. 

Rey gets a flare of that same feeling she’s had since the first time in Kanata’s— the feeling that his gaze holds back an avalanche, that his careful choice of words walls off a flood. 

She has to pretend not to notice. It’s the only way she won’t lose him or drown.

“Thank you. Ben.” Rey tucks some hair behind her ears and takes a deep breath. “If we do watch something, I have to request nothing horror-related. Or violent. Or sad. That’s just where I’m at.” She snorts. “I guess that doesn’t actually leave a lot. Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he says quietly. “You choose.”

So Rey chooses. It’s a comforting favorite of hers.

She generally doesn’t like watching things when she hangs out with people. It’s always seemed inefficient to her. She’d rather talk or _do_ something; she gets antsy otherwise, just sitting in front of a screen in silence like that, usually while the other person is only half-paying attention on their phone.

But now is different. She doesn’t want to talk, or rather she can’t. Not about the things truly on her mind, at least— not about the dreams or the nightmares or the visions or the way Ben has featured in them. That’s nonnegotiable. She already decided on that. 

Yet it seems utterly pointless to try to…. _bullshit_ him, instead. He already tends to see right through her but, even if he couldn’t, Rey wouldn’t want that. Ben is the only one she doesn’t have to sugar coat herself with. It would kill her to go against that now.

It forces her to ask herself why she’s even here, if it means being gridlocked with someone who she can’t tell the truth _or_ lie to.

That, in turn, forces an answer— she didn’t want to be alone.

But… no. That’s not entirely true. She could’ve _not been alone_ if she’d stayed with her friends at school. She could’ve _not been alone_ if she’d taken Finn up on his offer to leave with her. She could’ve _not been alone_ if she stalked away to Han like she’s done many times before.

She didn’t just want to not be alone. 

She wanted to be with Ben. 

That’s the truth. Whatever it means, however she might feel about it, that’s the truth.

Maybe she should stop overthinking and just be glad, because she kind of loves it here. Ben's house feels like a hug, especially as the sky gets darker outside and the soft interior lights feel warmer. His couch is insanely comfortable. The little gas fire is charming as fuck. Grim confidently and adorably fits himself between Ben and Rey as soon as they sit down, falling asleep quickly. His form gently expands and contract against her thigh with each of his steady breaths. It’s impossible not to be soothed.

Rey lets go of nightmares and visions and ghosts. They don’t exist, she decides. Not here. 

And so they don’t.

About thirty minutes into the movie, Rey starts to suspect Ben is confused. He hasn’t said a word since it started nor expressed any sort of reaction. She pauses it.

“Ben,” she says kindly, trying not to laugh or sound critical. “Do you… understand what’s going on?”

“What? Why would you ask that?”

“…Do you?”

His expression drops a little and he exhales slowly, bringing an arm up to scratch behind his neck. 

She can actually see his upper body for the first time now that he’s not wearing all his usual layers. She kind of wishes she couldn’t. It makes her oddly nervous. What reason does a lawyer need to be built like that?

His arm flops back down into his lap.

“No,” he admits with a slight pout.

Rey can’t help it— she bursts into laughter. Then she pulls it together and explains. 

_She gave him the wrong medicine, see? But it was an accident. She didn’t mean to, and he knew that. So he’s really smart and writes murder mysteries for a living, so he came up with that plan really fast so she wouldn’t get in trouble for his. Well, you know, from the police. Yeah. Yeah, he did that so it would look like suicide. But when she followed the plan she made some mistakes, remember? Like with the car? Just remember that. Well, I guess you’ll see, you don’t have to remember. And now all the family— yeah, they’re all related— yeah, exactly. They suck. It gets worse, too, but you’ll see— the point is that they’re trying to get the money now. Got it? Good._

After that, every time something really important happens, Rey double checks with furtive glances that he’s getting it. And, if she suspects he doesn’t, she pauses to explain without asking. He gets no choice in the matter— it’s her favorite, so he’s required to understand. 

As she’s on her way out the door to go home, he admits it was worth it. He liked it, too.

***

That night Rey sleeps for nine straight hours. Her dream is peaceful. She gets to fly through through the stars in a spaceship.

***

On Thursday, Rey is greeted upon arrival at Ace’s with a projectile sandwich to the face.

“What the hell?” she complains, stooping down to pick it up from the garage floor. Luckily it’s wrapped.

“You’re supposed to catch it,” Han calls from his workbench in the corner.

“And you’re supposed to warn me.”

She pulls up a stool next to him, dropping her bag down next to her.

“I didn’t? My bad.” 

She _hmphs,_ inspecting the sandwich wrapping. “This isn’t from George’s."

“No— I don’t know where they’re from, but they’re good. I think you’ll approve. Ben brought them.”

Rey straightens. “Ben’s here?”

“Left about an hour ago.”

“Oh.”

Han looks up from the laptop he’s got shoved onto the crowded bench, pushing down his reading glasses to peer at her.

“I’m sorry. Are you… disappointed?”

“No.”

“Oh.” He crosses his arms. “Do you not like my _son_ , Rey?”

She crosses hers right back. “Oh, I don’t know, _Han_. Do you?”

He huffs. “What?”

He’s brought this on himself by bringing it up. “How should one know what to think of a person who they were led to believe didn’t _exist_ until a week ago? Until said person concussed themself in our garage out of the blue? Hm? And how is one supposed to get the _context_ to answer that question now when they’ve been minding their own business— out of _respect_ — but _still_ haven’t been explained a damn thing?”

He squints at her. “Touché, kid. It’s complicated.”

Rey leans sideways onto the counter with a sigh. “Fine. Why was he here?”

“Does he need a reason?” 

“No.” 

He’s still being difficult just to fuck with her, the cantankerous old bastard. She loves him, but damn.

“We worked on the Cadillac some more,” he concedes. “And we talked some. He told me about that volunteer group of yours he joined. _Real_ interesting stuff. Small, small world.”

Rey gives him a deadpan. “Do you have something to say? Because please,” she gestures to the empty shop, “share it with the class.”

Han smirks, pushing his reading glasses up and turning back to his laptop. “No. No, not at all.”

She needs to nip this now, or it’ll get worse. 

“You’re having fun with this, and that’s fine, whatever, but I’ll tell you now that nothing like that is going on. I have Finn, remember?”

He tilts his head at her. “Finn?”

“Oh, come _on.”_

There’s the tiniest, most unenthused flicker of recognition in his eyes. “Oh, yeah. Finn.” Then he frowns. “Wait, really? You guys are still together?”

“Yes!” she nearly shouts. This is unbelievable. “For a year and a half! I _live_ with him! He’s been here a few times! How could you not remember that?”

“Woah,” he laughs. “Sorry. I guess you just don’t talk about him that much. I forgot.”

This genuinely trips her up for a second, because of course she talks about Finn. Of course she does. Doesn’t she?

“No… no, I do. I’m— I’m _sure_ I do.” 

How could she not? He’s in almost every part of her life. He’s her best friend.

“Hey— it’s okay. I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re probably right. You usually are. I probably just tune you out like the asshole I clearly am.” 

“Yeah,” Rey mumbles in agreement, nodding to the ground. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

Han sighs, turning back to his work. “I saved you the turkey sub, by the way. Let me know if it’s any good.”

***

Rey isn’t able to see Finn at all for the rest of the day, which sucks after that off-putting conversation with Han. 

They were supposed to get dinner together, but he cancelled at the last second to help Poe with some important errand for the research project he’s been assisting him on. She waits up for him at home, but after a number of hours of keeping herself busy, it becomes clear that all she’s doing is robbing herself of precious sleep. 

So, all alone she crawls into bed, feeling strangely trapped by the emptiness of the apartment. Emptiness can be heavy, in a certain way. It crushes you from all sides. Rey became familiar that a long, long time ago. 

Reluctantly, under the weight, she allows sleep to take her. 

Her short reprieve from nightmares is apparently over.

Rey is put right back into her horror story. No warm up— just shoved straight in.

It’s him again. The masked monster. He doesn’t have the sword of red light with him this time, but it’s him. He’s wearing the same distinct helmet and the same layered black robes, but she’s sure at this point she would still be able to distinguish him even if he wasn’t. There’s something about the feeling of his presence alone that’s singular, unmistakable, even kind of familiar.

They’re in a small room together, just the two of them. There’s no chase or weapons or physical threat, but the feeling of danger isn’t gone. He radiates enough of that all by himself.

He’s crouching at the foot of the reclined chair-like thing keeping her restrained. He sits there, watching her, freakishly still and composed. He seems thoughtful, even.

In that moment, Rey realizes she feels something other than just sheer terror when she looks at him. For the first time, she feels _angry._

Anybody in the fucking world would be this calm and cocky if they had a defenseless, skinny, twenty year-old girl in full-body restraints while hiding behind a mask. _Coward._ The least he could do is show her his face.

As though in direct response to this thought, he starts rising to his feet, hands lifting to either side of his helmet. Rey freezes as she realizes what’s happening.

He’s taking it off. He’s actually going to take it off.

_Wait—_ _wait, no._

She’s not ready. She doesn’t know why, but she’s not ready.

He bows his head forward as he pulls, the angle still shielding his face from her. The helmet makes a strange noise as it comes off, like miniaturized hydraulics.

A foreign, neon-bright panic flows into her from an unknown source, filling her chest and spreading quickly throughout the rest of her. She can’t see this. She can’t see yet. She doesn’t want to.

He’s straightening back up, inches from the reveal.

She strains against her confines, her panic turning physical. She’s not ready. Not yet.

_Not y—_

Rey wakes up just in time, shaking.

***

Rey Johnson

8:12 AM

hey! guess what, we have the same shift again today!

> Ben Solo
> 
> 8:15 AM
> 
> We do?

Rey Johnson

8:15 AM

yeah, I just checked! wanna hang out after? my night class got canceled. nobody else’s did :(

> Ben Solo 
> 
> 8:17 AM
> 
> Sure, what do you want to do?

Rey Johnson

8:17 AM

i have ideas  😈

Rey Johnson

8:17 AM

see you at 4!!!

***

After their shift, Rey asks in the car if he minds stopping at the store real quick before they figure out what they really want to do. He agrees.

“Thanks again,” Rey sighs as she hops out the passenger seat. “I just need to get a few things and then we can go.”

“No problem.”

They walk together through the parking lot just as the big overhead lights flicker on. They make a soft buzzing noise.

Approaching the doors, she adds, “And… mind grabbing a cart for me?”

Ben nods and grabs one, following her inside with it. 

Grocery stores at night are true liminal spaces. They’re one of the few places on Earth that seem like they could exist completely outside of time and space.

The lights are a little too white and clear. The air feels refrigerated. The few people milling about look like they're lost or in a daze. The low music playing is ominously smooth jazz. The vibe is both indeterminate and eternal. Like bland purgatory. She loves it.

Lost in thought, she almost reaches for Ben’s arm to pull him in the right direction. She remembers herself at the last second and grabs the front of the cart instead, using that to guide them into the bread aisle.

First she tosses in a loaf of sourdough. Then a package of bagels. In the dairy section, she throws in cream cheese, yogurt, and a couple of different sliced cheeses. When she starts in on the packaged meats, Ben breaks.

“Okay, what are you—”

“Do you like ham?” She inspects the ham label seriously. “Or are you more of a turkey guy?”

He puts a hand over his face, laughing disbelievingly. _“Stars,_ Rey.”

“Stars? I don’t think they have those here.”

“It’s an _expression._ ” He snatches the package from her hand. “Did you think you could trick me into grocery shopping?”

“I just did.”

“I could put all this back,” he counters.

“You could, but then I would never come over to your house again, ever.”

“You’re threatening me?”

“What are you gonna do about it?” She grabs it back, lets it fall into the cart, and starts pulling the thing backwards towards the eggs. 

Strong resistance snaps her back immediately. Surprised, Rey stumbles forward a bit, having to steady herself on the handle bar.

Ben is opposite her with one hand on the front of the cart, keeping it in place. He raises an eyebrow.

Rey scoffs and tugs it back with actual force this time, using her bodyweight. It still does absolutely nothing; the wheels don’t move even half an inch. Neither does he. She looks at him, then his hand, then him again.

“Are you trying to start a fight?” She says it mostly to be funny. Mostly.

“You would know if I was.”

“Okay, tough guy.” She walks the couple yards down to the eggs, picks up half a dozen, then walks back and gently slaps down in the cart. “I’m _not_ afraid of you.”

“Oh, I know that.” He doesn’t let go. She can tell he’s enjoying this.

“Come on, what’s the problem? Do you not like to cook? Do you not know how?”

A thought strikes her, and she wonders if this is connected to what happened earlier this week— if his dysfunction is a _grief_ thing. She’s learned in school all about how badly that can fuck a person and their self-regulation. 

It could explain his strange and sudden life decisions, it could explain why he seems so far away sometimes, and it could explain why he hasn’t been buying any goddamn food for himself.

Rey steps around the cart, coming up to him with arms crossed.

“I’ll help you. Show you how to make some stuff. I’m not great at it, but I know some staples.”

He stares down at her, eyes slightly glassy. Maybe she has to get simpler.

“How about grilled cheese? If you let me show you how I make them tonight, then we could eat them with some soup.”

He nods, voice slightly rough. “Okay.”

“Good. You’ll love mine, trust me. I know how to get the texture just right. We need butter.”

Rey is extremely satisfied with herself as she steps back and reevaluates the state of his kitchen. Refrigerator, full. Cupboards, stocked. Balance, restored.

“There! Now you can eat stuff whenever you want!”

“What a concept,” he calls from his bedroom.

“Shut up and get four slices of bread.” 

He comes around the corner smiling, tugging down a dark green sweater she hasn’t seen him wear before. For a split second she sees a corner of stomach.

She whips around like the sight burned her. “I’m gonna figure out how to get music from your TV, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

Some of the stations on his fancy satellite radio app are already playing Christmas music. She avoids those, refusing to think about the holidays until finals are over, and chooses something mellow instead. The first song fills the house and everything feels sort of perfect. At least in their bubble.

Ben stands next her at the stove as she imparts her wisdom about the perfect grilled cheese. He slices the tomatoes and heats up the soup, too, but for the most part he learns from the expert.

More than a few times Rey feels the weight of his gaze on her as she’s explaining something to him, but whenever she looks up to check, he’s always already corrected himself. Or she was mistaken in the first place. 

When it’s time to eat, Rey settles into what is shaping up to be her favorite spot at the counter.

“So far you’ve met me, Poe, Amilyn, Jannah… anyone else I’m missing?”

“Beau, briefly,” he says from the across the counter, apparently happy to eat standing in the kitchen.

“Oh, he’s nice. He doesn’t hang out with us all that often, though.”

“Hm.”

“But he’ll be at the little holiday party we’re putting together for the kids. It’s at the end of next week. We’re throwing one for ourselves the next day, too— you should come.”

“You think they’d want me there?”

“I know they would.” Rey casually leans her elbows on the counter, pitching forward. “What do you think of Jannah?”

“What do you mean, what do I think of her?”

Rey shrugs, chewing a big bite. “Just wanna know your impressions of everyone.”

“Why?”

“Because, as your friend, I can say that I think it would benefit you to have more.”

He laugh shortly. “Define benefit.”

“What?”

“Do I have to pretend to be a different person like you do to ‘benefit?’”

Rey sets her sandwich down. “Why are you so hung up on that? People’s personalities change depending on who they’re with, it’s normal.”

He sets his plate down with a clatter. “Don’t lie to me. That’s not what you’re doing and you know it.”

Rey stares, surprised by the genuine frustration is his voice. Okay. So he does have a less-soft side. Interesting.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Here— explain your thought process to me. I won’t judge you. I just want to understand.”

She keeps staring for another moment, considering it. 

Fine. She’ll play. “I have to belong somewhere.”

“Okay, good. Why?”

“Because everyone does. There’s no point, otherwise.”

“No point to what?”

Is he really going to make her say it? No. He’s making this too difficult. “Nevermind.”

“Rey.”

She closes her eyes, feeling the path he wants to take and knowing exactly where it ends. 

“What do you want me to say? That I think I’d be nothing without them? That I know I’m not good enough as I am, so I figured out how to make myself better? It’s not that hard to figure out. People have to work for what they want, Ben, and this is what I want. This is just how I earn it.”

He’s quiet. “You don’t earn love, Rey.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No. You don’t.” 

Rey opens her eyes. He’s leaning on his forearms now, bringing himself to her eye level.

“That’s not how it works,” he says. 

“Of course it is.”

“No. If someone loves you, they love you. What you do might complicate that, but it’ll still be there.”

She shakes her head, more out of confusion than anything. 

He pushes. “It’s not conditional.”

She wants to argue, but the urge is eclipsed. Something weird is happening. Ben’s words feel heavier and closer than they should. She’s locked onto them.

“But how can you _know_ that?” It comes out as a whisper. “Doesn’t make sense. What if you did something, like, completely horrible? Still not then?”

“Still not then.” A beat. “I’ve seen it.”

There’s a tightness in her throat she can’t get past. She looks down at her hands, balled into fists on the counter. Ben’s rest a couple inches away on either side. 

_If he touches me, I will cry._

“You have, too,” he adds gently. Carefully. “If you try to remember.”

_Remember?_ There’s nothing to remember. She’s never even given anyone the chance to love her unconditionally; she creates the conditions herself.  
  
A faint static fills her ears, like hearing the ocean through a seashell. An angry ocean.

“…Rey?”

It fades.

“I don’t know,” Rey sniffs a little, still looking down at the difference between their hands. “Can we maybe watch something now, please?”

She sounds so small, but she doesn’t have it in her to feel embarrassed. It’s his fault, anyway. He brought it up. 

Ben stands with a heavy sigh, sliding his hands off the counter and through his hair. “Yeah, of course. Of course. Sorry.”

Rey chooses the movie.

She’s alone in a hut. It’s nighttime.

There’s a small fire at her feet helping to keep her warm in her still-wet clothes. Her heart is beating hard. Her hand reaches in front of her, moving tremulously over the flames.

From the other side, another hand is tentatively reaching back.

Rey knows instantly that it’s Ben. She’s spent a lot of time looking at those hands lately. 

On the counter, almost-but-not-quite touching hers. Slicing tomatoes. Grabbing shopping carts. Gripping steering wheels. Fumbling with colored bracelet strings. Pulling away from her touch.

But now he’s reaching for her.

She feels the suspense heighten as their fingers grow closer, even if she doesn’t know what cause there is for suspense. It just feels… important. More than important— revolutionary _._ It’s the anticipation a world about to turn upside down. 

And he feels it, too, just as much as Rey does. She doesn’t look away from their hands, but she can sense his feelings without even having to see his face. They’re connected, and the connection right now is stronger than even sight. 

The gap closes, and then it happens. The very tips of their fingers brush. The contact sends a thousand of his thoughts and feelings through Rey at once.

_The full force of rage and pain coursing through his veins. His sorrow, like an open wound. The pit of loneliness and longing at his core that can’t be filled._

_And Rey, this girl, his equal, a force unlike anyone else— she’s the brightest thing he’s ever wanted. She’s the first person he’s wanted to trust since childhood. She is his first glimmer of hope in a wasteland. She is more to him than he could’ve ever fathomed._

Rey sucks in a little breath, stunned. She lifts her eyes, needing to look at him, to see his face.

But instead, they open.

It takes her a moment to process where she really is. 

It’s quiet. The TV is black. Grim’s head is in her lap. A heavy blanket has been draped around her shoulders.

She turns her head to the other end of the couch. He’s there, dead asleep in almost the exact same position as she is. The light from the fire warms the color of his skin. His chest rises and falls evenly. His face is completely and totally unguarded.

_Ben._

Something in Rey breaks. It just fucking shatters.

Because he’s unlike anyone else. He’s the first person she’s trusted like this. 

He is already more to her than she could’ve ever fathomed.

Just thinking it opens up an ache so deep her eyes begin to sting.

If she was just a little closer, she could touch him. She could move the hair that’s fallen into his face, or brush across the stubble on his jaw.

This is where she belongs. It’s as simple as that. Every bone in her body screams it.

She wants to stay right here with him forever. She wants to be looked straight through by him. She wants to crawl into his arms and kiss his neck and know exactly what his hands feel like.

Maybe he’d be able to feel her feelings like she felt his if she got close enough— if she gave him enough of her skin to touch. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to use words.

But no— that part wasn’t real.

Her mind goes static for a fraction of a second.

_Fuck._

Rey stands, slipping out from under Grim. 

She can’t ever come here again. Ever.

She’s crossed a line. She’s gone too far.She let her guard down, half-asleep, and she lost control.

This is _bad._

The clock by the entryway says it’s midnight— she was supposed to go home three hours ago. She was asleep on his couch for over three fucking hours.

Rey grabs her bag from under the coffee table and starts looking for her other stuff. Grim, awake now, hops off the sofa and starts following her.

She can see Ben at the youth center, fine. She can see him at the shop, fine. That’s all fine. But this other shit? It stops. It has to. 

She was an idiot to think she could be his friend. This whole time, she’s been being purposefully naïve; she knew from the very start there was something dangerous about him. Even apart from the freaky shit with the visions and the non-reality, she had a feeling. She just didn’t want to let _go_ of him; she came up with every excuse she could to tell herself it was okay, that as long as she did _this_ or _that_ nothing would get out of hand. But she still fucking knew— and she still decided to become his number one friend. She put her own mental stability on the line to do it. 

This just isn’t _good_ for her. She has too much going on in her life to allow one dude to fuck with all her established relationships _and_ her sanity. And she’s not about to fucking _cheat_ on Finn, not even in her head.

She can’t take this back, especially not from herself. She knows now. Pretending is over. It’s done.

Rey feels like she might throw up. 

If Ben really cares about her, he’ll understand. He can’t do this to her, whether or not he means to. Hopefully she won’t have to explain. They still can be work friends.

Except no, actually. No, they really can’t. _She_ can’t. He’s like a fucking drug to her and its hold is too strong. She needs detox. 

She’ll have to email Amilyn in the morning about the schedule. Maybe Han, too.

Grim whines, circling Rey in confusion.

“S’okay, boy,” she whispers, grabbing her phone and charger from the outlet in the kitchen. 

He keeps close on her heels as Rey hunts down her coat and slips on her shoes. She gives him a good pet on the head.

“Wasn’t your fault, I promise.” She opens the door as quietly as she can, steps through, then hesitates. “I'm sorry. Take care of him.”

He watches her sadly through the crack in the door, all the way until the moment it shuts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Hide My Face” by Acid Ghost [[x]](https://youtu.be/1R334_-8VvM) [[x]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0NknorQBSQgRLOBKQZhpJ5?si=3UGA4zMcSDe_-4KpCwb_lA)
> 
>   
> what we all should all take away here is that rey made ben a rian johnson stan 
> 
> ben's POV for the next 3 chapters get hyped


	7. my body is a cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mr. struggle

Ben is starting to get worried. 

It’s been two days since he’s seen Rey and she isn’t responding to his texts. Her final exams are this week, but there’s a vague feeling in his gut telling him that’s not the issue.

He has to give her _some_ degree of space in order to keep things seeming normal. If he fails to keep her comfortable around him, his own efforts can and will blow up in his face. He’s sure of it. She’s extremely jumpy— it’s part of what’s making him so uneasy now. He could’ve already done something wrong without realizing and upset the balance.

But, ultimately, as the clock keeps ticking, he has to wonder at what point “balance" stops mattering. 

Two days? Five days? Ten days? How much time would he allow himself to lose before he realizes he needs to change course altogether? How much would he sacrifice just to keep up a perfectly balanced, _positive relationship_ for another unproductive week?

The hard truth of the matter is that Ben has twenty days left to save Rey’s life. 

That takes precedence over everything. Something needs to change soon. Something big. He’s approaching the half way mark of his time here; his progress can’t be slow and steady anymore.

It was necessary in the beginning. He needed to take that time in order to build a foundation with her, and he did. He just can’t afford to go at that pace any longer. He can’t waste any more time than is absolutely unavoidable— certainly not over something as meaningless as school. 

He doesn’t want to take any drastic measures, but he will if he has to. He’s already forming ideas about it.

The frustrating part of this is that he’d actually been relatively successful up until now. He made his way into her life. He became her friend. She seemed to want to know him as much as he wanted to know her. More than once, she sought _him_ out first. His plan had been working. 

Rey… likes him. It astounds him over and over, but there’s no other explanation. She likes him. 

He can’t let himself think about it too much. Not in the way he wants to, at least— which he wants to. Badly. Being here with her is essentially everything Ben thought he’d never have, staring him boldly and beautifully and cruelly in the face every day.

But it’s not real. Not really. He still isn’t sure what this place is, but he knows it isn’t their home. That’s all that matters. 

It’s why it’s imperative that he doesn’t get caught up in his own useless feelings. If he loses his focus to a _fantasy_ , then he’s lost. And if he’s lost, then so is Rey. He can’t let that happen. He can’t let his own attachment to her, to this unreal _version_ of things, get in the way of her actual life.

He’s not here to make her fall in love. Even if he could, it would be a lie. She doesn’t know who he really is or what he’s really done. It already feels unfair sometimes, the way she smiles at him, knowing that she doesn’t know.

Luckily it doesn’t matter. Ben is here to bring her back, however he needs to, and that’s all. That’s his one objective, which makes the only real importance of her _liking_ him the indication that his plan is more or less working. Or so he’d thought it was, until now.

When Ben woke up on the couch in the middle of the night Friday, Rey was gone. He didn’t put it together at first, but eventually he realized she just got up and left. 

Although there was no real reason she should’ve woken him up or anything, it still triggered a small crisis. 

He opened his eyes, looked straight to the place on his left where she had been, saw it empty, and went cold. For the first few moments, he was paralyzed. He didn’t know where he was. Then it started— the sick loop he goes through almost every morning now. The dawning “realization” that he’d dreamt everything. That he wasn’t on Earth at all. That Rey had been cold and dead for two weeks. That maybe he was, too.

Then he saw Grim on the floor with a treat in his mouth and everything rushed back to him at once.

All that was left when he could breathe again was the _off_ feeling. No evidence, just an inkling— something with Rey was different. Something with her was wrong. 

Now, two days later, that inkling has bloomed into full-fledged surety. He sent her three cautiously-spaced and carefully-curated text messages over the weekend. He received no response to any.

According to his notes on her schedule, he can’t realistically do anything in terms of seeing her in person until either tomorrow or Tuesday. That means another day or two down the drain. 

He’s at a loss.

It kills him, but he knows for now he has to wait— either for Rey to reply, for Tuesday to come, or for another idea to strike. 

… _Or for the guts to change approach._

_No._ No drastic measures. Not yet. 

So he waits. 

He’s found the worst part of waiting to be the quiet. The kind in his head. He’s not used to it and now that he’s here, there’s no real distraction.

It’s not like the voices used to be there constantly or anything. The _voice,_ he supposes. Singular. It was really just one all along, pretending to be more.

But he wasn’t always there. Or, in truth, he both was and wasn’t. There’d be periods of time where he’d speak to Ben every day, then longer periods where he’d be gone completely. But the _feeling_ that he was always there, just on the other side of an unlocked door in the force, existed from the beginning.

It instilled the feeling in Ben very young that there was always someone on his side, if only he just reached out. So he did. He didn’t know any better. He can’t remember a time when the voice of Snoke, in particular, wasn’t around. It was just a fact of life. It scared him at the very beginning, but that soon went away. He had a friend no one else had. It never occurred to him that his friend wanted something bad from him. “Snoke” was kind for a very, very long time before he wasn’t.

There’s no force now, no voices, no unlocked door. There’s no one on the other side to reach out to, regardless of whether or not he’d want to reach out. It simply doesn’t exist. For the first time in Ben’s entire life, he is completely alone inside his own head. 

He doesn’t miss the way it used to be, but he’d be lying if the lack of it wasn’t unnerving. In its own way, it’s scary. It’s eerie and empty and… quiet. And him, alone. No more masters, no more Orders, no more sides.

His affiliations used to rule him. He grew up a child of the New Republic. Trained under the Jedi. Became an apprentice to Snoke. Joined the Knights. Led the Knights. Worked in the First Order. Led the First Order. Lived under both the dark and the light. Fought so many battles for so many people for so many reasons he can’t even begin count them.

Now there’s just her. Ben has survived every crazy, dark thing in his life so far, but now it all comes down to her. Saving her is the only thing left that matters. If he can’t do that, then what was the point of surviving, killing, fighting, escaping, changing, climbing, of _getting_ to this point?

He’d fight a thousand armies to retrieve her from death’s grip if he could, but he can’t. He can’t _slash_ his way through this. He needs to have patience and delicacy and tact. He needs to be smart. He needs to put one foot in front of the other. He needs her trust. 

Ultimately, Ben needs to tell her the truth. About everything. About why he’s here, who he is, who _she_ is— and he needs to tell her soon.

For now, he needs to go to the auto shop tomorrow and just hope she’s there.

* * *

“She’s not here,” Han calls from his corner workbench as Ben walks up.

Ben’s heart drops, stopping in his tracks. “Sorry— what? Who?”

“I gave her this week off. Finals.” He shrugs. “I’m a good boss.”

“Oh. Well, I— I came here to see you.”

“I see three sandwiches in that bag.”

Ben lifts it, scowling. “So? I didn’t want to be rude. And she’s normally here.”

“You’ve never been here on a Monday before, how would you know that?”

“She— she told me.” Ben feels his face warm. “You know what, maybe I should go.”

They’ve seen each other maybe four times (after who _knows_ how many years apart in this world) and yet his dad is already teasing him about things. Ben can’t decide whether it’s horrible or wonderful. 

That little smirk on his face is exactly as Ben remembers it. It hides in the same corner of his mouth, so slight that you have to know to look for it.

“No— Ben. Come in. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He takes off his reading glasses. “Come on, come here. What did you bring me this time? Let’s see it.”

Ben hesitates in the opening of the garage, frustrated by the fact that he already knows he’s going to obey. He’s stressed out and annoyed, but Han asked. Something inside won’t let him say no.

He stalks over to the corner, holding out the bag aggressively. Han takes it.

“Thank you,” he smiles, a sing-song emphasis on the _you_. He pulls each of the three out and glances over the marker scribbles on their wrappings. “Sit down. I’m guessing these are still your favorite.”

Han hands him a “BLT.” Ben takes it, mumbling. “Thanks.”

Wordlessly, he pulls up a stool and sits sideways on it, leaning against the bench.

All is silent for a while as they open their sandwiches and take their first bites. Ambient sounds waft into the garage. Birds chirp. A few blocks away, someone gets into a honking match.

Neither of them feel the need to talk. That’s nice, at least.

The first time Ben came here, he literally knocked himself unconscious from the panic of seeing Han. The second time, he got stuck alone with him for an excruciating hour after getting caught staking out the garage. The third time, he miscalculated Rey’s schedule and had to pretend that he came with the sole intention of… hanging out. 

Today is now the second time that this has happened. 

But at this point, Ben would be lying if he said he completely hated it. After spending enough time with Han over the past couple weeks, part of him is actually starting to enjoy it. It’s complicated, of course, but the impulse to run away or be physically sick at the mere sight of him has calmed down. 

He’s found that, as long as he finds a way to block out his memories from his own world while they’re together, he’s able to at least look his father in the eye. 

And he’s decided that’s reason enough to try. This is his last chance, after all. This is the only opportunity Ben has left to look at his father, to be with him, speak to him. To memorize his face and his voice before it’s too late. 

Maybe he doesn’t deserve that opportunity after what he’s done, but some part of Ben— the young part, probably, still stuck underneath all the guilt and self-loathing— doesn’t want to waste it. Regardless of whether of not he deserves it.

After a while Han clears his throat. Then, haltingly, “Don’t be mad, but I spoke to your mother.”

Ben freezes. “About me?”

“Yes, about you.”

Ben says nothing, eyes carefully trained on a random manual on Han’s workbench. Trying to smooth his own emotion.

“…Ben?”

He looks up, level again. “What?”

Han sighs, crossing his arms. “I told her that I’d seen you. As you might imagine, she had a lot of questions.”

“What did you tell her?”

“First— you should know I told her about… you know, what we’re doing.”

“Eating sandwiches?”

“No, Ben.”

“Working on cars?”

“No,” Han scratches his head. “You know, how we talk.”

Ben frowns, not understanding.

“How we…” He sighs. “The way we’ve been operating— how we don’t talk about the past. That we’ve sort of chosen to only look forward, you know. I told her she’d need to respect that decision if she wants to talk to you. I figured you’d want it to be that way with her, too.”

“Oh,” Ben says, dumbfounded. 

Thinking back, Han hasn’t once tried to broach the subject of whatever it was in this world that separated this Ben— Kylo?— from his parents in the first place. It just never came up. 

He must have started that, himself, when he arrived here unannounced that first day and casually asked his dad to look at his car like it was no big deal. Han must’ve taken that as some sort of cue and ran with it. That’s lucky. Ben still has no idea what went down between them. If he was confronted about it, his cover would crumble immediately.

“Yes,” Ben nods immediately as soon as he understands. “Yes— if that’s okay.”

“It is.” Han nods. “So, ah. What are you doing for Christmas?”

_Christmas— annual religious and cultural holiday, December 25th. One of the holidays in the collective “Happy Holidays.”_

He did a lot research on this day. He knows he did, because it’s included in his month here. It’s day number twenty-eight of thirty-five. But now he can’t think for the _life_ of him what a typical answer would be.

“Uh…” _It was similar to Life Day, wasn’t it?_

“You don’t have to tell me,” Han waves. “And you don’t have to answer now, but I’ll just put it out there— your mother and I would really like it if you spent it in Rockport with us.”

“Oh.” This throws Ben for a loop. That’s… no. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t. He has to stay close to Rey. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t answer yet. I know it’s a lot. Just think about it, okay?”

“I just really don’t—”

“Don’t answer. Just think. Okay?”

“…Fine. Okay.”

“It would just be nice to have you come home. Even just for a day. We miss you.”

A flash of the bridge on Starkiller Base flares up from behind Ben’s mind block. The old reality starts to bleed into this one. The level of it rises around him.

‘ _Come home._ _We miss you_.’ 

It’s hard to breathe. It was one of the last things his father ever said before he drove his—

“But full disclosure, your uncle is coming this year.”

Ben is pulled from the flood and slammed straight back down into his body, gasping. “Wha— _Luke?_ ”

“Yes, Luke. Is that a problem?”

Ben scrambles for words, barely recovered. “Wait, is he here? Boston? Is he in Boston?” 

“No… he should still be on his little island at this time of year. Why?”

It’s a long-shot, but… but what if _he’s_ here? His Luke? He sent Ben here, didn’t he? It’s possible that he’d be here, too. Ben would kill to talk to him right now. Maybe he knows something; maybe he could help. 

“Can I have his number?”

Han laughs. “Is that a joke?”

“No.”

“Not that much has changed. Luke still doesn’t ‘do’ electronics.”

“Oh— right. Of course.” Ben takes a deep breath. “I forgot. Sorry.”

“Yeah, Leia actually tried to get him to install a landline last year. Didn’t go well.”

Ben laughs drily. Luke always did have a set way of doing things. A strict code. 

“Anyways. Like I said, think about it. No rush. Just thought I’d bring it up now.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Ben says, numbed.

Han crumples his sandwich wrapping into a ball and tosses it into the trash can a few yards away. “Right, then. Wanna take a look at the Caddy?”

It takes Ben a moment to put his sentence together, to realize he’s talking about the car.

“Oh— no. I actually… I have to go.” Ben stands.

He needs to find out where Rey is if she’s not here. Probably studying, but where? Maybe she’ll be there tomorrow, too. He’s used to at least having an idea where she is at all times. It’s stressful not to know.

“She has a boyfriend, you know,” Han says out of nowhere, like he could read Ben’s mind and knew who he was thinking about.

Ben realizes he’d been staring in the direction of her office without thinking and blanches. “What?”

“I’m just saying.” It’s hard to tell how much he's teasing.

Ben opens and closes his mouth, stuck between embarrassed and angry. He goes with, “I know.”

Han knits his hands together in his lap. “She’s a little young for you, anyways, don’t you think?”

Something about the causally protective statement triggers something, making the already-tense Ben snap before he can stop himself. “You think she needs _protecting_ from me, don’t you?”

“What? I didn’t say—”

“No, it’s what you think. I can tell,” he bites. “Incredible paternal instincts.”

Slowly, Han puts his hands up in a defensive position. “Son, listen, I know I’ve—”

“ _No_. You don’t know anything. About Rey, about me. Anything. So stay the _fuck_ out of it.”

Han winces. 

Ben’s blood burns hot and fast the way it does before he explodes. He’s not visibly shaking, but he’s vibrating inside. Suddenly he realizes he’s two feet from his father’s face. He doesn’t even remember moving towards him.

He steps back immediately, raking his hair through his hands to diffuse himself. Two seconds of anger is all it took to lose control of his tongue. Two seconds and one stupid sentence.

“What’s going on, Ben?” Han asks slowly. “I was honestly joking before, but… what is this?”

Ben shakes his head at the ground, eyes screwed shut. 

“Are you two actually involved?”

“No.” An idea dawns on Ben. With no other avenue to take, he launches himself into it. “No, it’s not about that. It’s not about her at all. It’s just—” He swallows, readying himself. “You treat her like a daughter. And talk about her like one. And that’s just… strange for me. I guess.”

That part’s not technically a lie. It _is_ strange. Ben makes a point every time he’s here not to think about it, not to examine it too closely. He can’t caught in any more useless, distracting feelings. There are already too many emotional landmines with his dad.

“ _Oh._ ” And in that one word, Ben knows for certain that Han believes him. He relaxes. “I see. I’m sorry, I thought maybe—”

“I know what you thought. And she’s great. But no, I’m not interested in… dating your little protégé.” 

Also not a lie. Even if Ben wasn’t here to save Rey’s life, “dating” would be a vastly insufficient word for them. Its insignificance is laughable, really. They’re both far past that point yet nowhere near it. There’s no real word yet for the person who essentially shares your soul but also hates your guts.

“I understand.”

Satisfied with his shoddy damage control, Ben starts checking his pockets to leave. Best to go now before he loses his temper again and undoes it all.

Han stands. “Hey— will you come again this week?”

“Yeah. Sure.” Ben must be imagining the relief in Han’s posture when he says it; it doesn’t make sense after what he just did. “See you.”

Keys in hand, he turns and heads back out towards the parking lot. Han calls after him.

“Thanks for the sandwich!”

Ben just waves over his shoulder, but Han continues. 

“And— just for the record, Ben, I wasn’t teasing because of anything you did. Really. I think I sort of displaced some stuff on you. I’m sorry.”

This gets Ben to properly stop in his tracks. He turns his head. “What do you mean?”

“Been frustrated with the kid recently. Shouldn’t have made it your problem.”

Ben turns completely. “What are you frustrated with her for?”

Han sighs, chewing on the end of his pen. “Doesn’t matter, I just wanted you to know that. I don’t actually think you’re too ‘anything’ for her. Not at all, really. Like I said. Sorry.”

Ben could strangle him. He keeps his voice casual. “Well— now I want to know. Why are you frustrated? What happened?”

“It’s really nothing.”

_Tell me tell me tell me this is about Rey, I swear to—_ “Come on, what is it? You brought it up.”

Han gestures around helplessly, sitting back down at his makeshift desk. “Like I said, it’s nothing. I love the girl, but she doesn’t always know what’s good for her. Never listens to me about anything, either, even when I’m trying to help. _Especially_ when I’m trying to help. She’s stubborn as hell. Has no sense of what she deserves. It’s frustrating to watch.”

Yeah. Ben knows that. Still, he pushes further. He needs all the information he can get.

“What’s frustrating to watch? What won’t she listen to you about?”

“Guess.”

Ben’s stomach does a weird flip, coming to the only logical conclusion given their conversation. “The boyfriend?”

Han shrugs one shoulder. “Eh. Among other things. Like I said, I’m sorry for teasing you about it. Wishful thinking, maybe.” He stretches from side to side casually, like he didn’t just insinuate what he just insinuated. “Hey, bring a pastrami next time, will you?”

Ben, lost for words, nods. Finally he chokes out, “Yeah. Sure. Will do.”

“Thanks,” Han calls blindly, already distracted by something on his laptop.

Ben drives two blocks from the garage before turning and parking his car on some random residential street. Once there, he merely stares out the window in complete silence. Thinking.

Han wants him to spend time with him, his mother, and Luke, but Ben knows it doesn’t matter. He can’t even think about going. It’s too distracting; he needs to stay near Rey. Which means he also won’t be able to talk to Luke for any potential help.

And Rey. Ben can’t get to her through his dad’s shop anymore. Not this week, which she’s taken off, and not next week, either, given the shop’s closure for the holiday. 

The same holiday situation is more than likely about to happen with her two other jobs, including the one at the rec center that they share. That’s two more channels of contact soon to be closed to him. 

He already lost his most direct mode of contact with her, because at this point he’s sure she doesn’t plans on responding to his texts. 

That leaves… nothing.

And, to top it off— not that it _matters—_ Han has just told him that he thinks Rey shouldn’t be with the person she’s with. Ben agrees. Ben also agrees with the other thing he said about her. 

Rey is fucking stubborn. And it’s what’s ultimately going to take her from him.

In one great burst, Ben lashes out and hits his steering wheel as hard as he can. He doesn’t aim for the horn, but he jars the whole thing so hard that it goes off anyway. He does it again. And again.

Then he loses it. He attacks the dashboard like he’s trying to beat it to death. Over and over and over, with as much force he as can physically muster, he strikes everything within reach until he can’t feel the pain of it or even the impact anymore. It’s all just a blur. 

He doesn’t know how long it lasts. Eventually, gradually, he tires himself out. He knows to stop once he starts to feel his hands again.

Out of breath and almost dizzy, Ben collects himself and takes stock of the damage.

The radio console area is fully smashed in. Done for. There’s shards of glassy plastic that used to be the display lodged into his skin. The other controls for temperature and defrost look pretty bad, too. Maybe ruined.

He sits there for another couple minutes, simply breathing, then calmly turns his keys in the ignition and heads home to make a new plan.

* * *

“Why are your hands like that?” Samuel asks on Tuesday. 

They’re sitting at a table alone in the corner of the yard beneath the big tree. Rey isn’t here today. She was _supposed_ to be here. 

He was counting on it. 

“My hands?”

“Yeah, why are they all messed up?”

“Oh. I punched my car.”

  
“Wait, really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would you do that?”

“That’s a really good question. I’ll tell you when I know.”

Samuel has given up on the legitimate braceleting method and is now just tying a bunch of knots in a row. It doesn’t look half bad, actually. Ben is still attempting to use the steps Rey and a very Type-A nine year old taught him last week. It’s slow-going.

“Do they hurt?” Samuel asks.

“No.”

He reaches over the table and pokes Ben’s most bruised knuckle.

Ben jerks back, hissing in surprised pain. “Son of a Bantha! Ow! What the hell?”

Samuel giggles. “You lied.”

“I didn’t lie. They don’t hurt if you don’t _hit_ them.”

“I didn’t hit them! I barely touched you!”

“Whatever. Do you need more green?”

Samuel doesn’t respond. The kid bends his head down, exaggeratedly focused, suddenly locked off from the world.

Then Ben notices the reason— Jannah, crossing the yard in a pretty blue-grey sweater.

She stops at the head of their table, hands on her hips. “Hey guys. How’s it going?”

“Good,” Ben says simply.

“Awesome! What are you making, Samuel? A bracelet?”

Samuel keeps his head down and doesn’t acknowledge her. She doesn’t seemed surprised by this.

“Well, it looks good,” she offers anyways. She tosses a questioning look at Ben, who shrugs. “I can never get those right. But you seem to be picking it up, Ben. Did Rey teach you?”

“Yeah, she and Maisie did.”

“Ah, you learned from the best, then.”

“I did.” Ben manages to smile at her. She smiles back, lingering a moment longer to watch Samuel curiously. 

Finally she sighs with a certain forced cheeriness— an affect he’s noticed many of the adults around here always use to address children, for some reason. 

“Well. Have fun, guys. If you want to play Jenga, we’re starting a tournament inside. You’re welcome to come.”

Ben nods. “Thank you. Jannah.”

Her smile softens and becomes more genuine at his use of her name. “Of course.”

Ben remembers just as she turns to go. “Oh— wait! Sorry. Um. I was just wondering, are Rey— and, you know, all the others— are they going to be gone this week? For… finals?”

She thinks about it. “Mm… don’t think so. Everyone’s pretty much still working as usual. I know I am, at least. And in Rey’s case, I know she’s definitely still working, she just changed up her schedule. That’s all.”

_That’s all._ She says it so lightly. 

Ben feels like he’s been punched in the gut. 

Rey changed her schedule. She _changed_ her fucking schedule— at two jobs now. 

She’s going out of her way to avoid him. He already knew that, but he vastly underestimated how far she was willing to go to do it.

“Thanks,” Ben says, reeling.

“No problem,” she smiles anew. “Have fun.”

When she’s far enough away, Samuel emerges from his own world and rejoins Ben’s.

He tilts his head of floppy curls at in his direction. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

Ben shakes his head vaguely. How is he supposed to fix this?

“Ben. Ben. Ben.” Samuel pokes at his hand again— at least not on the painful part this time. “Ben. Ben. Ben. _Bennnn._ Ben. What’s wrong? What is it? Bennnn.”

Ben looks up at him, feeling incredibly tired. “Samuel— do you think you can you keep a secret?”

Samuel freezes, halting his poking. Excitement sparks in his big round eyes and he nods.

“It’s really important,” Ben tells him. “It’s serious. You have to swear not to tell.”

“I do swear,” Samuel says. “I swear on my life. I swear on my _dog_.”

Yeah. Works for Ben.

“Good. I’m from another world, I’m here on a mission, it’s _not_ going well. I’m kind of freaking out and I have no one to talk to about it.” 

The genuine confusion on the kid’s face makes Ben laugh.

“Wait. Another…like Canada?”

“No. Think bigger. Much bigger. Like outer space, except also in another dimension.”

“Really? You’re from outer space? Like an alien?”

Ben sighs, setting his bracelet down. “Please, Samuel. Think about that for a second. Everyone’s from outer space. Earth is in space. To me, you are an alien. To you, I am an alien. That word doesn’t really mean anything from where I’m from.”

“… Woah.” Samuel sits back, eyes wide. “You’re right.”

“I know. Anyways. Yes, I’m from outer space, and I’m having a hard time here. Everything is just going really badly.”

“Why?”

Ben hesitates. “I shouldn’t go into specifics. Might jeopardize the mission, you know.”

Samuel nods in agreement. “Yeah, totally. I get it. Wait— it’s not like an evil mission, though, is it? To destroy Earth or something? Actually, nevermind. I don’t wanna know. I’ll still help.”

Ben snorts. He can’t tell how much Samuel actually believes any of this, but he at least seems enthusiastic to play along. That’s all he needs right now.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Ben assures him, unable to fight his smile. “I’m not here to destroy anything. I’m here to save someone, actually.”

“A rescue?”

“Yeah. I’m on a time limit, and it’s really stressful. And I’m alone here.”

“And I’m the only one who knows?”

“You’re the first.”

Samuel puts on a serious face. “You can trust me.”

“I know. Thank you. It’s nice to be able to tell someone.” Ben puts the finishing knot on his bracelet. It looks pretty good— delicate and black with a spiral-y white thread weaving throughout. “Hey, you’re here pretty much every day, aren’t you?”

“Yep,” Samuel says flatly. “Every day. Every week.”

“Will you do me a favor? To help?”

He sits up. “Yeah.”

“Like I said. I can’t really tell you anything, but… will you just hold on to this?” Ben dangles the black and white bracelet between them. “And the next time you see Rey, give it to her?”

Samuel takes it carefully, examining it as though it might be magical. “Rey? Sure. What do I tell her?”

“Just tell her that it’s from me.”

“That’s it? That’s the message?”

“That’s it. Just that it’s from Ben. That should be enough.”

* * *

One large Kanata’s coffee and some in-café reconnaissance later, Ben figures out that Rey isn’t working at the coffee shop this whole week. Or the one after. 

Apparently the owner has a lot of sympathy for her employees who are still in school and already runs shortened business hours around the holidays. 

Damn her kindness.

It’s the final nail in the coffin. Ben officially has no acceptable or even plausible reason left to see Rey. She’s walled herself on every front he could possibly use to access her.

His whole approach this entire time had been to befriend her, to be someone she wanted to know— that way the blow would be softened and she’d be less likely to _run awa_ y _screaming_ when he told her the truth. About their world, about him, about her, and about why he’s here, specifically.

And it had been working. For two weeks, it had been going at the exact pace he needed it to.

But it’s clear now, after four full wasted days, that his method was fragile from the start. It was probably doomed to fail. 

It’s time for something more radical.

What he’s planning is essentially a bomb, in terms of what it’ll do to everything he’s built so far. It’ll be one large step he can’t ever come back from. Every piece of progress he’s made in these last two weeks will be completely and totally obliterated. He’ll be starting over, this time by taking instead of talking.

But that’s the only way he’s gotten what he’s wanted before, isn’t it? By taking it? By winning, however he has to? However aggressive he needs to be, whoever he has to hurt, whatever it costs— Ben can’t lose. Not this time, not even to her.

Quite honestly, he should’ve known that any other strategy would fail him. He has to wonder why he wasted so much time on a soft approach when he knew the result was this important. Why would he do that? Why would he risk wasting even a day of his time?

Another part of him answers, from very deep inside. _You wanted her to like you._

He squashes the voice.

Being liked isn’t the point. It wasn’t then, and it certainly isn’t now.

He has to let go of that. He has to kill that notion completely if this is going to work.

And it’s going to work. 

Wednesday comes, and Ben is as ready as he possibly can be. 

He deduces Rey’s location mostly himself through his own web of sources, but has it confirmed via a vague comment from his dad that morning. She’s at her university’s library. 

She’ll be studying there until around four or five and she’ll most likely alone, given the fact that she’s preparing for a test of a class none of her friends have. He triple-checked that. 

It might be the best opportunity he’ll get.

Around two, Ben goes to the school. Once he finds the library building, he makes a point of parking as close to it as he can. 

Doubt and nerves threaten to cloud him, but he shuts them out by force, drowning them with focus. _Not now. Not now. Not. Now._

Inside, the place is spacious and warm and dry. The architecture is surprising open and breathable. There’s a quiet ambience throughout that feels like softened silence. The loudest noises are footsteps and murmurs and shuffling papers.

The layout is more or less simple. There are two floors with one main staircase located at the far end of the room. The place is pretty populated; most of the study tables around have at least one person at them. Ben was expecting that, of course, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy about it.

It just makes him hope even harder that he can get Rey to come outside with him willingly. It’ll make everything a thousand times easier.

He starts his sweep of the first floor as inconspicuously as he can, scanning each table, checking between each aisle of shelves, and glancing through the windows of each study room. He takes his time, not wanting to look like he’s looking. It’s important he doesn’t draw attention to himself, not unless he has to.

While his plan is flexible, it’s still somewhat complicated. A lot of the decisions he’ll have to make will depend completely on Rey's reactions in the moment at a series of different points.

Take the first point, for example— if Rey _reacts_ well in the moment to seeing him and comes outside when he asks, then Ben won’t have to _decide_ to knock her out and take her from the building himself.

He doesn’t want to do it. 

But he will. 

She won’t feel much, he’ll make sure of that. He’ll be fast and gentle. As gentle as any person can be using a choke hold to constrict blood flow to the brain, anyway. Without the force, it’s the best he can do.

If necessary, he’ll make up some excuse about exhaustion to anyone who sees her unconscious on their way out. It doesn’t matter whether or not they believe him. He and Rey will be long gone before anyone can call the authorities or do anything about it. And if someone does actually try to stop him… well. Ben would just have to commend that poor soul for their bravery against him.

Ideally, with Rey’s cooperation, he’ll avoid having to lay out innocent students in such a peaceful place of study.

She must be somewhere upstairs, Ben decides, because he isn’t seeing her on his sweep so far. He starts his ascent, quickly checking through the rest in his head.

The next point will be a similar situation to the library. The car. 

Best case scenario, she gives him the benefit of the doubt and gets in, herself, when he suggests a drive while they talk. Worst case, she doesn’t and… that’s where the situation would become similar.

Next it’s her phone. Assuming she’s still conscious, she’ll either give it to him for whatever innocuous excuse he comes up with, or he takes it. Then it “accidentally” breaks or falls out the window. That, or Ben abandons pretense altogether and snaps it in half in front of her. 

The idea is that they’ll be far enough away from the city at that point for her awareness of his intentions to matter. She’ll be stuck with him at least until he stops, and he doesn’t plan on stopping until he reaches the place he has in mind for them to stay. He did his research. It’s remote, and it’s already booked.

“Kidnapping” is the term he’s seen online for situations like this. “Abducting” would probably be more accurate, though. Rey isn’t a child, as much as her friends appear to treat her like one.

In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter what it’s called. What it really _is_ is saving her damn life. He needs to get her to a location where they can talk alone with no outside influence, some place he can keep her until she sees _sense_. However long that takes.

By Earth standards it’s horrifying, but by the standards Ben has lived under most his life, it’s rather kind. She’ll probably go back to hating and fearing him like she did before, but if that’s the price of her heartbeat, he’ll fucking pay it. It doesn’t matter what she wants anymore, not here.

The library’s second floor is much less crowded and even more quiet. With less to pick through, Ben starts to get nervous when he continues to see no sign of her. But then, right when he’s about to give up and go back downstairs, Ben spots a glimpse of brown hair splayed over freckled skin. His heart leaps.

It’s her, sitting in the very far northwest corner at a tiny table by herself. She’s slumped over a book, her hair spilling over the arm that’s acting as a pillow for her head.

It’s a small area, created by the forgotten space between a couple of bookshelves meeting at a 90° angle. The corner she’s wedged herself into is made of all window, overlooking both the central grassy area of the school grounds and the parking lot. He’s impressed. She found the best view in this place and made it all hers.

Rey herself is wearing a dress, something Ben has never seen in his life. It’s a deep red color made of a flowy material that wraps tight around the waist. The dull overcast light coming at her from each window in both directions puts a glow around her edges. 

From where he’s standing, her silhouette is entirely haloed. For a moment Ben can’t move. He can only stare. 

Someone brushes by him in the main aisle.

“Excuse me,” the guy mumbles, dark circles beneath his eyes.

Ben moves to let him by, then checks quickly to see if Rey heard or looked. She didn’t. She’s a little too far away for that.

Right. He has to get closer. Just to observe, first. 

He chooses the bookshelf to the left of her, slipping behind it and walking down to find a spot where he can see but won’t be seen. Now only ten for so feet away, Ben can see details better. Her hair partially obscures the title of the textbook underneath her, but he can still read it: _Statistical Methods for the Social Sciences._

He wishes he could see her face. She seems like she’s not doing great. Her posture alone looks distressed, but on top of that her knee is bouncing under the table at the speed of sound. It worries him. He doesn’t like it. 

_Doesn’t matter._ Whatever’s bothering her, whether it be school or literally anything else that has to do with this world, it’s not _real_ and therefore doesn’t truly matter. He’s real. She’s real. That’s it. _Think._

_Hey, Rey. It’s me, Ben._

What? _‘It’s me?’_ No.

_Hey, Rey. Your friend Rose told me you’d be here._ _Can I talk to you outside about something?_

Too formal. Has to be looser. Don’t mention Rose. Might conflict with something he doesn’t know about.

_Hey— sorry to bother you, I was told I’d find you here. Do you have a second?_

Actually, maybe he shouldn’t lead with the request at all. Too suspicious. 

This shouldn’t be so hard.

_Ugh._

He watches her some more. She’s not even reading, he realizes. She just… has her head down. The hand on top of her book holds a tiny black pen, but she’s not doing anything with it. He might think she was asleep if her knee wasn’t still bouncing.

He wishes he could just walk up and ask her what’s wrong. He wishes he could push the hair out of her face and see her eyes when she answered. He wishes he never had to see fear or hatred for him in them again.

His stomach twists, because he’ll have to.

Ben centers himself. He can do this. He’s done much, much worse things in his life. He can do one more thing. This is nothing— nothing in exchange for everything.

He’s just about to turn away to start his approach when something clicks and makes him stop.

He looks at the pen in her hand again, squinting. 

It’s not actually a pen. It’s a bracelet. 

A shitty bracelet. _His_ shitty bracelet, the one he gave to Samuel to give to her. 

Then, for the first time in almost ten minutes, Rey moves. 

She raises herself from the table a little, picks her phone up from the corner, and stares at it. She takes a deep breath— Ben can see it expand and contract in her torso— then collapses back down. 

Her face is completely obscured, but then her ribs move again, barely, in little pulls.

Then Ben realizes— she’s… crying? Maybe? At least sniffling.

He watches, stunned, until the movements calm down and finally she moves again. She’s still flat on the table, face turned from him, but he can tell she’s doing something with her phone.

Then Ben’s pocket starts buzzing. Out loud.

His phone is on silent, but the vibration still makes sound, especially in the silence of the library. Adrenaline spikes through him as he fumbles for it. He pulls it out as fast as he can, looks down, and spastically presses the button on the side that stops the vibration.

On the screen it says, _Incoming Call: Rey Johnson._

Ben looks up again, even more stunned. She hasn’t moved. She didn’t hear him.

Quietly as possible, Ben backs out of the aisle and around the corner.

Then, the second he’s out of her possible view, he runs. He doesn’t think. He just _goes_.

He barrels down the stairs, weaving at top speed through the first floor, and out the building the way he came. He doesn’t hit anyone on the way, but there are a couple of close calls and disgruntled noises.

He barely picks up in time, jogging around the outside of the library in a wide arc. He tries not to sound winded.

“Hello?”

_“Ben? Oh. Hi.”_ She’s quiet, but sounds surprised. _“Sorry, I— I didn’t know if you’d pick up.”_

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Having made his way around to the northwest side of the building, he spots her up on the second floor in her corner window, still at the table. He makes sure he’s not visible from her vantage, leaning against a smaller building across the way behind the cover of some trees.

She’s sitting up straight now. _“Um— can you wait like one minute? Sorry, I know I called you, but I should get out of this library. Like I said, I didn’t really think— doesn’t matter. Can you give me a sec?”_

“Sure, of course.”

_“Thanks. Sorry.”_

He watches as she stands, quickly gathering her things with one hand while the other holds her phone against her chest. Her hair is all mussed from laying on her arm, the skirt of her dress all crinkled. He can see it from here. She’s lovely. It’s distracting.

She leaves the window, slinging her bag over her arm as she goes. Ben double checks his surroundings to make sure he’s hidden from the vantage points of both exits. He is. 

A minute later, Rey bustles out of the closer one with her big beige coat on. She walks away from the main sidewalk, finding a spot of wall against the library that’s to the side and distinctly out of the way. There, she drops her bag and books to the ground.

_“Hey,”_ she breathes. _“Sorry about that.”_

“It’s fine. You don’t have to be sorry.”

_“So, um.”_ Ben’s at just the right distance to be able to see her wince as she turns into the wall, leaning against it with her forehead. _“How are you?”_

She makes her voice sound as bright and steady as ever. 

“I’m doing alright,” Ben says, watching with concern. “How are you?”

_“Oh, yeah. Doing pretty good.”_ She hits her head against the wall lightly. Once, twice, three times. _“What have you been up to?”_

It’s unsettling, the difference between what he’s seeing and hearing. “Uh… the usual. You?”

_“Studying. Mostly. I only have one major exam left, though. So that’s nice.”_

“Yeah. Han told me about finals week.”

She nods into the wall then pivots around, eyes screwed shut to the world. 

_“Yeah, he gave me the week off.”_ A little laugh. _“He’s a good boss.”_

“Funny. That’s what he said.”

_“Well, he just likes to flatter himself.”_

“I guess he does.”

Rey doesn’t respond. She just opens her eyes and blinks up at the wide grey sky as though for help.

“Rey?” 

She looks unbearably lost, tilting her head back even further with a deep breath.

“Rey,” he repeats, trying not to sound too worried.

_“What’s up?”_

“Are you okay?”

She stands there for another second, almost like she’s just considering it. Then, all at once, she starts to sink. Her back slides down the concrete wall as she goes, all the way until she’s on the ground, hugging her coat around her knees. She drops her forehead against them, making herself an impenetrable little ball.

_“Are you doing anything right now?”_ This time, her voice cracks slightly.

The last of Ben’s stupid kidnapping plan crumbles at the sound. For now.

“No, I’m not. Do you want to come over?”

She doesn’t respond again. She isn’t moving.

“Where are you?” _Come on, Rey. Help me. Don’t make me take you. You have to help me._

No response.

“Rey.”

_“Um.”_ A muffled sniffle. _“I have to do some errands for the kids’ holiday party on Friday. Do you wanna come with me?”_

“Just tell me where to pick you up.”

Fifteen minutes later, she’s getting into his car. 

Immediately she squeaks, “What the fuck happened?”

“What?”

“Did someone break into your car or something?” 

He sees her staring at the mangled center console, horrified. 

“Uh— yeah. Sure. Where are we going again?”

She reluctantly drops it and gives him verbal directions to a party goods store close by.

At the store, they roam up and down the aisles together, talking like nothing’s different. He helps her pick out non-denominational holiday-themed paper plates, table cloths, plastic cutlery, giving her his vague opinions when she asks for them. 

Rey is breezily pretending everything is normal and fine.

Ben is desperately trying to rationalize the abandonment of his own plan and form a new one.

She pays at the front with the credit card Holdo gave her for the errand. Ben notices she isn’t wearing the bracelet. He wonders where she keeps it.

“What’s next?” he asks when they return to the car.

Rey tosses the stuff in the back seat and gets into the passenger’s side with a sigh. “Cake. Poe’s supposed to do it, but I’d bet a hundred bucks he forgets. Best to get one for him. Worst case scenario, we have two cakes.”

Ben nods, putting his key in the ignition.

“Wait. Ben. Seriously, what happened to your car?”

“Well, seriously, it got smashed in, Rey,” he says, annoyed. Both at himself for being weak and stupid and at her for being impossible. “As you can see.”

He has questions, too. Like, _Why were you crying?_ and _What are you hiding?_ and _Why the hell did you go so far out of your way to avoid me only to turn around and pretend you didn't?_

He’s about put the car in reverse when Rey takes his hand straight off the gear shift and pulls it towards her. 

Not anywhere close to expecting her _touch_ him, Ben flinches back on sheer instinct. She interprets it as pain and murmurs _“sorry,”_ but doesn’t let go.

He waits in stunned silence for her chastisement, watching her face. There’s a slight pinch between her brows. Her pink lips are slightly chapped from the cold. The freckles, in particular, taunt him. They always do when he’s close enough to count.

It’s hard to stay mad when she’s touching him like this— gently. The last time she did, she was healing him. Feels like ages ago, but it was really only days.

…What if he just told her? What if he just told her everything right now? What’s stopping him?

Her eyes lift to his and the possibility is forgotten in a startle of hazel. 

“Have you ever gone bowling, Ben?” She’s still holding his hand in her lap in both of hers. A few of his fingers rest on her thigh. He can feel the warmth of her skin under the fabric of her dress.

Incapable of speech, Ben just shakes his head.

“Well, I think you’d like it. We should go. Now. We can get the cake tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” _She wants to see me tomorrow?_

“Yeah. After my test maybe? If you can, that is. And if you want to.”

“No— I do. I can.”

“Cool.” She looks back down and swallows. “Listen. I’m sorry I haven’t been a very good communicator. I don’t have a good excuse. There’s just… a lot of weird, bad stuff in my head right now.”

The car feels smaller. Quieter. Everything else melts away.

His voice scratches in his throat. “You can tell me.”

She smiles sadly. “Yeah. I know I can.” Her thumb skims idly across his scabbed knuckles. “I think I learned that the weird stuff is better with you than without.” 

His chest flares with warmth. It pulls him towards her, andhe realizes just how close she already is. She’s so close. It would be so easy. Two fingers under her jaw would tilt her face right to his.

“But _you.”_ She looks up before he’s ready, a real smile spreading across her face. Like dawn. Like sunlight slicing through dark. “I want to show you what _I_ do when I need to hit shit— and that doesn’t damage my own property.”

“Yeah?” he barely manages.

It hurts, how badly he wants to reach out, to touch her face, to kiss her. How badly he wants to wrap her up and hide her away and keep her safe from everything. This must be what the Jedi meant about attachments. Because he would do anything for her. Because even now, even all he’s changed, he still would burn down this whole fucking planet if he had to. Or if she asked him to.

“Yeah. You’re going to love it.”

She returns his hand, placing it back on the gear shift. He wakes up a little when she lets go.

“It’s kind of across town.” She buckles herself in. “But I know the way.” 

Ben finds bowling to be an extremely simple game made unnecessarily complicated. 

The machines and rules and rental shoes seems kind of silly to him given the actual straightforwardness of the concept, but Rey knows what to do about all of that extra stuff. She speeds him through the set up process, taking charge of which lane they choose and what type of shoe to rent and what weight of ball he should pick.

“I used to throw bottles at a wall in the alley behind my old house,” she informs him cheerfully, tying her shoes on the bench of lane eight. “And that was super satisfying and all, but it was one hell of a clean up every time and once I cut myself pretty bad on accident.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she waves vaguely at her cheek. “Then I attempted being _healthy_ about it and tried running. Hated it. Didn’t even come close to cutting it for me. I mean, it works for some people, but I don’t know. You work out?”

Ben ties off his left shoe. “Not really.”

  
  
His training from before was not “working out,” not the way they think of it here. Here, people exercise to be fit and look and feel good. For Ben, it was straight weaponization. It’s wasn’t for fun. It wasn’t for looks. It wasn’t for even for his own health. If anything, it was the opposite. And while it helped with the rage, it came nowhere “close to cutting it,” like Rey said. Nothing ever did.

“Not really?” Rey laughs.

Ben glances up, confused. She looks like she’s about to erupt into even worse laughter. 

Worried, he backpedals. “I mean… yes? In a way.”

She bursts into laughter anyway. “Jesus Christ, Ben.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Nevermind.” She stands. “As I was saying— after running, I thought about trying an organized sport like boxing or something, but I think I knew I was too soft that. Never committed. Eventually I found this. It’s kind of silly, but I like it. It’s like meditation. You have to really focus, you know? It’s hard to think about anything else when you’re here, knocking shit over.”

“Makes sense.”

“Thanks for not laughing.”

“Well, it does. It makes sense.”

She smiles. “Ready to try? I can go first if you want.”

He nods and watches her set up her swing. Her first ball knocks over most of the pins. They’re one of only three groups in the whole place, seeing how it’s midday on a Wednesday, so the explosive noise of the impact fills the building completely. It is a satisfying sound, he’ll give her that.

Rey is enthusiastically supportive of his attempts— until he gets the hang of it. When he starts getting good, her enthusiasm noticeably lessens.

“You’re competitive,” he notes.

She smiles at him fondly, like he’s a child being silly. “Competitive? No. You’re doing great.”

“You definitely are, though.”

“Come on. Why would you say that?”

He nods at the screen hanging behind her. “Sorry. I guess I just thought that maybe since I surpassed you, you might’ve—”

Her jaw drops as she instantly _whips_ around to check it. _“What?_ No you didn’t _._ Look. _”_

Rey points emphatically to their totals on the board. He’s still twelve behind. There’s no way to miss it.

She freezes with her back turned, realizing what he did. “Oh. Very smart. Very funny.”

Ben merely smirks, getting up for his turn. She hits him on the shoulder as they pass.

_“Ow,”_ he hisses, holding it.

Rey’s face drops; she bolts to his side. 

“Oh my god.” Her hands flutter nervously around the spot she hit. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. It was supposed to be a fun punch, it wasn’t supposed to actually hurt. Rose always says I don’t know my own strength, I should’ve known not to do that, I’m so, so—” She stops cold, seeing his face. 

Ben grins.

Incensed, Rey hits him again. Harder. Twice. It does actually hurt this time, but he just laughs.

“Fuck you! I’ll show you competitive. I’ve been going _easy_ on you.”

He snorts. “Okay.”

“You’re going down.”

And Ben does go down— but not by much. Four points total.

When Rey gets her final strike cementing her win, she twirls triumphantly, arms up. With the glossy wooden floor and her special smooth-bottomed shoes, she spins like magic.

It’s unreal. Her hair flies wild, red dress rippling out around her. Ben tries to take a mental picture. _Here’s Rey happy._ Here’s Rey happy with him.

She stumbles up to where he’s sitting on the bench, pink-cheeked and dizzy.

“Well… you win,” he sighs. “Congrats.”

Rey grins, leaning too far left. Before he can think about it, Ben reaches up to steady her with a hand on her waist.

“Thanks,” she giggles, grabbing his forearm. “Did you like it, though? Was it satisfying?”

He blanks for a moment. She’s keeping his hand there. 

“Uh— yes. Very satisfying. I’m glad you showed me. Thank you.”

“You’re a natural.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, you bowled over a hundred on your first time.” Her hand slides down around his wrist, fingers closing around it. “So maybe try this and don’t beat up expensive pieces of machinery next time.”

He doesn’t say anything. He can’t. 

Her eyes dance around his face, equal parts playful and worried. “Okay?”

Something comes over him. Maybe it’s her proximity, maybe it’s her touch, maybe it’s just _sense_ — because if he’s going to go this route, if he’s going to abandon his other plan, then he needs more. He needs more from her.

“Rey,” he starts softly. He feels strangely calm. “The weird stuff you talked about. In your head. What is that about?”

He thinks he knows. He thinks it might help him.

He watches as her smile falters, then sinks. “…What?”

“Will you tell me about it?”

“Why…?” Her breath quickens. “Why… why would you ask me—?”

“Hey. It’s okay.” His thumb runs across the side of her ribcage. “It’s okay. You said it was better with me than without, didn’t you?”

She pulls her hand off his arm. That’s his cue to let go of her waist, but he doesn’t. He stands, keeping his hold of her. She won't run away from this.

“Rey.” 

She looks up mistrustfully at her name.

“Just say you’ll tell me about it. That’s all.” He tilts his head slightly. “You’ve helped me.”

_Come on, Rey,_ he finds himself silently urging for the second time that afternoon. _You have to help me._

He can see the way her jaw tightens, fighting against something. She looks terrified.

“You’ll think I’m crazy,” she whispers with a nervous laugh. 

“I promise you I won’t.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“Yes, I can. I promise you right now.”

She drops her gaze, staring blankly into his chest. He can see a strand of hair caught in her eyelashes. Lost in the closeness, Ben carefully pushes it aside. 

“There are a lot of things I could tell you that would make you think I’m crazy,” he offers. “Crazier than you.”

“Really?”

“Really. We can exchange.” He pauses, watching her think. “Doesn’t have to be right this minute. Just… just say you’ll talk to me? Please.”

After another moment of silence, Rey gives a tiny nod. 

Satisfied, Ben slowly lets go. But, with a mind of their own, his fingers linger even afterwards. They hover, just grazing her waist, like they can’t leave. And for a moment, Rey seems to have a similar response. She leans ever so slightly towards him, as though gravitating into his hand.

But she stops, falling back into neutral. “I’d like that, actually. If really you mean it.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

“Okay,” she smiles. “Thanks. But we’re still getting that cake tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. We’re still getting the cake.”

“Cool.”

Ben takes her home after that, purposefully not pressing any more sensitive issues. His victory was a small one, but one he really needed. He isn’t about to lose it so fast. He doesn’t need another four-empty-day crisis. She’s flighty. He knew that. Now he can’t let himself forget it.

The next afternoon they get the cake like they said they would. Rey asks his opinion on about a hundred of them, then goes ahead and chooses the first one that caught her eye in the case, anyway. It’s a chocolate cake with blue frosting and piped-on snowflakes. Perfectly winter-themed.

It’s a brief affair because she has some place to go with Rose afterwards, apparently. At least that’s the excuse she uses to turn down his offer to come back and hang out with him and Grim. Part of him suspects she’s just trying to avoid going to his house again. 

It’s not ideal, but he can still work with it. It’s better than total avoidance.

He has to tell her sometime in the next few days _._ Rey can’t decide to come home if he never tells her that she needs to in the first place. Plus, he’ll need to give himself enough time to actually convince her, assuming she’ll need it.

He’ll do it this weekend. He’ll use whatever she tells him about the “weird stuff” in her head as a lead in. 

Because he knows whatever it is has to do with him, or at least their world. He _knows_ it. 

Ben has seen it in her eyes, multiple times. The first time was at his dad’s garage. Rey stared up at him that day and she _cried,_ paralyzed with more than just fear. She literally asked him who he was. She took it back immediately, but it was too late— she’d said it out loud. And Ben has not forgotten. 

Not long after that, almost the exact same thing happened at the aquarium. Except that time, it was all without words. He was smart enough not to comment on it; it could’ve caused another ice out. So he let it go. But he hasn’t forgotten that, either.

Rey isn’t as clueless as she pretends. He doesn’t know what she knows, but she knows something. He can feel it. And he’s going to use it to help him.

It’s the best way to approach it he can think of. The reveal will be a shock however he does it, but he has to do it somehow. Letting her be the one to sort of bring it up seems like the safest bet. That way it’ll be grounded in something; it won’t just be him rattling off strange and crazy information, expecting her to believe it out of nowhere.

They just need to be alone for long enough for him to be able to 1) get her to really talk about it, 2) transition into his confession/explanation, and most of all, 3) talk her down from whatever reaction she has. 

So all he really needs is a block of time and some privacy. And courage.

Friday, they’ll be together in a group at the kid’s party, so he’ll have to wait until Saturday. The “adult” party is that night, which she has insisted he attend, so he’ll need to do it before that.

Ben takes a leap and texts Rey about her Saturday plans. She basically does the rest for him.

> Rey Johnson
> 
> 5:12 PM
> 
> oh my gosh!! I was gonna ask you!!
> 
> Rey Johnson
> 
> 5:12 PM
> 
> I was gonna say we should hang out before the party 
> 
> Rey Johnson 
> 
> 5:12 PM 
> 
> so I can tell you everything about everyone that’s gonna be there

Ben Solo

5:13 PM

Gossip?

> Rey Johnson 
> 
> 5:13 PM
> 
> I mean, if you WANT to look at it like that
> 
> Rey Johnson 
> 
> 5:13 PM
> 
> look
> 
> Rey Johnson 
> 
> 5:13 PM
> 
> I’m gonna spin you around like a debutante and I just think you’ll want to know some things about who you’re gonna be spun to
> 
> Rey Johnson 
> 
> 5:14 PM
> 
> ok I made that sound kinda scary but I promise it won’t be

Ben googles. _Debutante: a young woman of aristocratic or upper-class family background who has reached maturity and, as a new adult, comes out into society at a formal "debut" or possibly debutante ball._

Ben Solo

5:15 PM

I hate that

Ben Solo

5:15 PM

…But fine.

Any opening he can get.

* * *

Friday goes well at first.

The kids’ event is underwhelming but fine.

During the cake-cutting, someone whispers at him aggressively. “Ben!”

It’s Samuel, sitting by himself in a shadowy corner away from the rest of the party. Of course.

Ben walks over. He’d been talking to Jannah and Rey for a while, but they got distracted by some kid’s food allergy issue and left him standing around awkwardly. 

“I gave Rey the bracelet like you said,” Samuel says. He’s sitting on a bench, tattered hoodie pulled over his knees.

Ben nods, leaning against the wall. “I know. Thank you.”

“Did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“Whatever you needed me to give it to her for.”

“Oh— yeah. I think it did, actually.”

“Cool.”

“Did you get cake?” Ben nods behind him. “I helped choose it."

“I don’t like cake.”

“What kid doesn’t like cake?”

Samuel shrugs. “Just don’t.”

“Weird,” Ben says.

Samuel narrows his eyes. “ _You’re_ weird. You’re the weirdest person I know. You told me you were an alien.”

Ben scoffs. “And I told you, so are you. At least I’m the kind of alien that likes cake.”

“Ben! Samuel! Buddies!” a jovial shout comes from behind Ben. Samuel’s face goes from smiling to stone. Ben has the same reaction internally.

It’s Poe Dameron, freshly arrived half an hour late, bringing with him a white birthday cake with the ‘sale’ grocery store sticker still on the plastic box. He throws it on the table haphazardly, knocking over a cup full of forks, and jogs over.

“Hey hey hey! How’s it going, guys?” He claps Ben on the back rather hard, then looks at him, surprised. “Woah.”

“What?”

“You’ve just got some pronounced traps, is all. You work out a lot?”

Why does everyone keep asking him about that? 

“Yes. Constantly.”

Poe rubs the scruff on his jaw, nodding. “I can tell. I’m in sports medicine so I just tend to notice that stuff, you know.”

Samuel, playing sullenly with his hoodie zipper, grunts out a single syllable. _“Sure.”_

Poe’s head flies towards the kid, then to Ben, then to Samuel again, shocked. “Did he— did you just throw shade? At me?”

Samuel pretends not to hear. “Cake,” he mumbles in excuse, rolling off the bench and leaving Ben alone with Poe.

Tiny alien traitor.

“I swear, he used to be a little monster before you got here. I mean, he would have _screaming_ fits. Now he’s just avoidant and… mean. Like a ten year old teenager.”

“Maybe he grew out of it.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” Poe sighs, crossing his arms. 

He steps beside Ben so they can both watch the rest of the room. A movie is being projected on the far wall; a few kids are zoned out watching that. Beau is leading some crafty activity with paper snowflakes near the entrance. Rey and Jannah sit with a group of mostly girls, talking and eating. 

“Where are you going for the holidays, Ben? Do you celebrate anything?”

“Not really. I’m staying here.”

“What about family?”

Ben rolls his shoulders back and tilts his head to one side, cracking his neck. “No.”

Poe doesn’t pick up on the _fuck off_ vibe. “Hey, you’re not an orphan, are you?”

_An orphan?_ Who just says that?

Poe laughs at himself, recognizing the strangeness of the question. “Sorry— I just ask because a bunch of my friends don’t have family and it’s kind of a funny coincidence. Um. Well.” He wrings his hands a little. “You know, funny to _them_ I mean. It’s not funny, in general. _I_ don’t think it’s funny. It’s horrible, obviously. Just terrible. Tragic. Whatever. My point is that their orphanhood is why we’re all going and spending the break together.”

“That’s nice,” Ben says, not bothering to take the disinterest out of his voice. 

He’s been watching Rey fix an eight year old girl’s braid. It’s funny, how impatient of a person she is. Her fingers clearly know what to do, but they’re fast and messy. The simple braid stays together, but that’s about it.

Maybe Ben could show her how his mom taught him to do it. He could show her a lot of things. After he breaks the big initial truth tomorrow and things hopefully settle down, Ben will be able to be honest about little things for the first time. He’ll be able to _really_ talk to her and she’ll be able to actually know him. They’ll have seventeen days for it. It’ll still be a rush to convince her, but not impossible.

It could really work. Everything’s set up now. He just has to deliver.

Rey glances over at the two of them and waves.

Poe waves back. Then, to Ben, “So, have you?”

“What? Have I what?”

“Been to Williamstown? That’s where we’re going. It’s a three hour drive, but it’s worth it.”

“No, don’t think I have.”

“Shame. It’s nice. I’d invite you, but we literally wouldn’t be able to fit you in the car,” he laughs. “But we might go again in Spring— you should come with us then!”

Rey starts walking over, looking between them with a little smile that only Ben knows the meaning of. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Ben dismisses him, unable to focus on anything but her. She must be wearing makeup or something today, because her eyelashes are longer and darker than usual. He can see them from here. She looks at him from under them, conspiratorial and almost shy.

“Hey! Here comes the little Rey of sunshine herself!” Poe announces, breaking the moment with the opening of his arms.

She laughs and obliges, walking into the hug. 

Ben takes the opportunity to imagine how satisfying it would be to take Poe’s closest arm and twist it back until it snapped. He shouldn’t presume to touch Rey so casually. Her boyfriend is a different story. But Poe? Poe needs to be humbled. And nothing humbles a man like crying on the floor in pain in front of his peers and twenty schoolchildren.

“You look great!” he exclaims. “Love the shoes. I was just telling Ben about our trip.”

Ben frowns. _Our?_

“Cool!” Rey smiles. “I was going to ask you about your plans, Ben, but I never got around to it.”

Ben holds hold up a hand. “Sorry. Wait. Did you say—” 

Poe interrupts. “Ben is staying here, he just told me. We’re friends now.”

“Is that so?” Rey teases.

“Oh, yes.” Poe claps him on the back again. Ben stiffens at his touch, feeling his eye twitch. Maybe he should do worse than an arm. A couple ribs might be better. “We bonded. I found out that he is _not_ an orphan, so we’re basically besties.”

“Sorry.” Ben repeats slowly so as not to completely lose it right here, right now. “Just so I understand. Rey… you’re on this trip?”

“Oh, yeah— she did most the planning. It’s Rey, me, Finn, Jannah, and Rose! Orphan Squad!” Poe does a lame “squad” pose to match. 

Rey laughs at it, despite it being nowhere close to funny. “Yup!”

Ben swallows. “And… how long are you guys going for again?”

“Couple weeks,” Poe says. "We leave first thing Sunday. Probably be back and a couple days after New Years. Maybe just before, depending if we hear of any good parties.” He laughs.

_Weeks. Gone for weeks. Sunday._

The room goes in and out of focus. Ben hears Poe like he’s very far away.

“Oh _shit_ — is that Miguel over there? I thought the little man moved to Utah!”

“Language, Poe. And no, that was Michael.”

“Sorry, sorry. Well, I gotta go say hi to my favorite nerd.”

He jogs away, leaving Rey and Ben facing each other. She looks at him nervously. “Hey. You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he hears his voice say.

She steps closer, fingers brushing against the back of his hand— secret comfort in a crowded room. Her body blocks anyone from seeing. 

“Is it Poe? I’m sorry. I know he’s a lot. I should’ve come as soon as I saw you guys.”

“I’m fine,” he repeats, turning his hand without thinking. Their fingertips catch, holding each other by only the first digits.“I can handle Poe Dameron.”

“Well, you look kind of murderous,” she murmurs, smiling.

“Do I?” He meets her eyes. They’re shockingly bright, surrounded by thick fans of black. His throat feels thick, his head a little light. He looks away. _Gone. Weeks._ What is he supposed to do?

“Yeah.” Slowly, casually, she slides her hand closer to his until their fingers loosely interlock at the second knuckle. Not quite holding his hand, but close. “You’re scary sometimes, Ben.”

It almost gets him to smile as he vaguely surveys the room, just trying to _think_. “Sorry.”

“No,” she says. “I like it.”

Ben’s eyes fix back onto her face instantly. She’s slightly flushed, but she doesn’t take it back. Or look away. His gaze drops to her lips before he realizes he’s done it.

If they weren’t in a room full of people right now, he’d swear she was _trying_ to get pushed against a wall and kissed. Does she know that? Is she doing it on purpose?

Ben doesn’t understand. _Why is she— Why would she—_

“Were you going to _tell_ me?” is the only question that comes out, voice cracking. “About the trip?"

Her brows pull in, genuinely surprised. “Didn’t I?”

He pulls his hand out of her loose grip. Steps back. “No. You didn’t.”

“Oh. Sorry. Guess I talk about it with everyone else so much, I assumed you knew. But yeah, we’re going to Poe’s cabin.” She shrugs, like it’s inconsequential. 

There are so many consequences she doesn’t even know.

She grins suddenly. “Oh! And when we come back, I’m thinking about throwing a surprise party for your dad’s birthday. The ninth. You should help me! I want to do it in the garage and hire a taco truck, he loves those. What do you think?”

Ben will be gone by then. His time and his chances will be up.

“Tomorrow,” he says, avoiding her question. “We’re still seeing each other tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Coffee.”

“It’s just— it’s really, really important that I see you. Okay?”

She laughs. “Okay, Ben. It’s important to me, too.”

“No, Rey. I mean it. I’m serious.”

“Same. I take talking about my friends behind their backs with you _very_ seriously.” She laughs, stepping back towards Jannah. 

She gives him finger guns and turns.

_Nothing has changed,_ he tries to tell himself as he watches her go. 

Nothing but the stakes.

As long as he can get Rey to accept the truth before the end of tomorrow, the stupid trip won’t matter. She’ll stay here with him— how could she not, once she knew everything? How could she go back and play along with her silly life when she knew there was a real one?

But if things go bad now... then she spends the rest of his month here in the equivalent of a _bunker_ and Ben is royally fucked.

Ben calmly walks towards the bathroom. He says hi to Tony and Isabelle and a couple of other kids on his way.

Then, once he’s there and locked himself inside, he takes a deep breath and screams. 

He screams into his arm, muffling most of the sound with his thick sweater until his throat hurts and his eyes water and his face goes red. It’s nowhere near satisfying, but it’s better than shattering the mirror with his fist. Or ripping the porcelain sink from the wall. Rey would notice that. Everyone would.

Afterwards, he catches his breath with his hands on his knees for a while. Then he gets up, splashes his face, and fixes his hair in the mirror.

Then Ben rejoins the party.

He’s so close.

He’s right there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "My Body Is A Cage" by Arcade Fire [[x]](https://youtu.be/Jdve08cG3pE) [[x]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0NknorQBSQgRLOBKQZhpJ5?si=3UGA4zMcSDe_-4KpCwb_lA)
> 
> a lil bit of ben à la kylo perhaps?
> 
> also can i just say i have been waiting to get to the next part of this fic for a long time i am very very VERY excited for it and hope you guys like it!!!
> 
> thank you for reading!! <3


	8. i'd take care of you (if you'd ask me to)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw drinking

_“Hey Ben. Wow. You sound so different in your answering machine thing. So serious. Like, even more than normal. Not that it’s a bad thing! It’s not. Anyways, um. I can’t make it this morning. Something… came up. Something I can’t not deal with. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you with a million coffee dates in the new year, I promise. I’ll see you at the party tonight. Sorry again. Bye.”_

Ben doesn’t explode when he puts the phone down. He can’t. It feels like there’s nothing left in him to explode.

He slumps sideways on his couch, staring with an empty head at his dumb decorative fire on-a-dial. Each remaining piece of hope keeps getting torn away. It’s getting harder to keep fighting it. It’s like he’s swimming against a current he can’t see.

Ben hides his face in a pillow and lets the current wash over him, not moving for a very long time.

* * *

“Fancy seeing you here.”

Ben, wound so tight from waiting all day, nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Hux. Hell.” He’s been found, hunkered in the corner of an empty room, clutching a beer he hasn’t touched since it was thrust upon him twenty minutes ago. “What are you doing here?”

“Rose invited me.”

Ben can’t stop his eyes from rolling.

“Hey, you do _not_ get to judge. You and—”

“Say her name and I’ll fucking kill you,” Ben says bluntly. Today is not the day. “Right here. I don’t care which of these prepubescent idiots witnesses it.”

A girl in a shiny green dress looks over from the adjacent room, hearing this. When she doesn’t do the polite thing and look away in terror, Ben smiles and waves. That does it. She quickly pulls her and her friend out of sight. There.

Hux collapses into the chair next to him. “There’s that charming Kylo Ren spirit. It disappeared for a second there. I was beginning to think you’d been body swapped or something.”

“That so?”

“Yeah. Still not calling you Ben.”

Ben scoffs. “You better not. I’ll—”

“Fucking kill me. Yeah. I get it. Calm down.” Hux crosses his legs and takes a sip from his champagne glass. “This Poe guy. Must come from money, right? No physical therapist can afford anything close to this.”

Ben looks around them, at the stateliness of the house— at the high ceilings and white columns and big paintings and general spotlessness. It’s in what Rey once called an “old money” neighborhood, and now he understands why. The place is big. The amount of people here has already far surpassed his expectation, with more still arriving. 

He doesn’t know what he did expect, really. Maybe ten people instead of fifty. Maybe less girls in high heels and more… pizza.

Ben grunts. “Definitely. Has a cabin in Williamstown, too, apparently.” 

“Yeah, Rose told me about that trip. Didn’t realize it was his place, though.”

Oh. Great. Just fucking excellent. Even Armitage Hux knew before he did. 

“There you are!”

Rey’s friend Rose is gliding across the room, smiling at them with brilliant ruby red lips. Her dress is more relaxed than a lot of the others— black jeans and a white t-shirt— but she still feels fancier than normal with her silver jewelry and perfectly waved hair.

Hux instantly becomes a mess, deciding to get up to greet her and nervously reversing the decision three times. He doesn’t know what to do with his glass. A couple of drops slosh onto the ground as he struggles in the half-up and half-down.

“Get it together,” Ben hisses, genuinely appalled. 

“Come here!” she decides for him, smiling. He stands to receive her friendly hug, awkwardly leaning down to return it. “I’m so glad you came!”

“Yeah, me too. Thanks for the invite.”

“Of course! Come back and take a shot with me and Kaydel! Everyone’s in the kitchen. Bring your friend, too— Ben, right?”

Ben smiles his best. It feels grotesque on his face. “Yes. Hi. I’m great here, but thanks.”

“Sorry,” she pouts. “Not gonna take no for an answer. You’re not staying here alone. Come on!”

Hux grins at him. “Yeah, _Ben_. You heard her. Come on.”

Fine.

Ben wasn’t a fan of liquor before he got here, and his opinion hasn’t changed since. It’s a distraction, a waste of time, and a quick way to weaken yourself both physically and mentally.

But when Rose hands him a tiny glass of clear liquid that smells like poison, he decides he’ll have to forget that for the night. Everyone is drinking here; it seems like all they’re doing. Whatever. It might lessen his misery.

He takes his shot alongside Rose, Hux, and a few others, all standing around an island in the massive marble kitchen. It’s disgusting. So far his misery has only increased.

“You’re Rey’s friend, right?”

A blonde girl with two long braids is addressing him. Kaydel. Another Resistance member.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

She moves closer. “Love that girl. She’s just the sweetest. How’d you guys meet? You don’t go to U Mass, do you?”

“No— and it’s a long story. She’s coming tonight, right?”

“Yeah.” She takes the shot glass out of his hand, sets it next to hers, and starts refilling them both. Music starts up in the next room over, growing louder. “As far as I know, she’s still coming.”

“Still?”

“Oops,” she laughs with a wince, handing his glass back. “Uh, yeah. I don’t really know what happened, but… all I know is she should be here.” She raises her shot. “Cheers?”

Ben holds in a sigh and lifts his glass with her. “Cheers.”

They both down the acidic substance. Kaydel coughs and giggles a little after.

“Hey hey!” Poe’s voice booms from behind him. “Are we doing shots?”

Kaydel smiles. “There he is. Mr. Poe Dameron— fashionably late to his own goddamn party.”

Ben turns. Poe looks unusually tired, but he approaches them with a grin as dazzling as ever. “Key word fashionably.”

Over his shoulder, Ben catches a glimpse of a familiar leather jacketed arm around a slight figure. Rey and her boyfriend. They must’ve all come in together.

“Woah,” Poe puts a hand on Ben’s shoulder as he starts move towards her. “Hey, come on. I’m the host, and I demand to do a shot with you. It’s quite the opportunity.”

Rey disappears around the corner. Ben swallows.

“Yeah. Sure.”

He grabs the bottle, grinning at Kaydel. “Hey, it’ll be interesting to see this guy loosen up, eh?”

“Poe!” she scoffs like she’s embarrassed.

“Calm down, it’s fine, we’re friends.” Poe laughs. “So quiet, though. I bet there are state secrets buried in that head of his.” Then, thinking that Ben’s not listening— which, to be fair, is mostly true— he adds to her, “He might _smile,_ Kay— or maybe even flirt back.”

She swats him and shots are passed around again.

“Salud!”

Ben takes his as fast as possible. As the third in a row, it goes down slightly easier. He slides his glass back on the counter.

“Thanks. It’s been… Great party, Poe.” He attempts to shove by again.

And Poe stops him again with a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, man. What’s up? Let’s talk.”

“No thanks.”

Poe steps back, letting go but still blocking Ben’s path. “Hey now, what’s the rush? Are we that boring?”

Ben looks at him— hard. 

He holds back nothing on his face, letting his true feelings show for once. He lets them burn down into Poe at their full deadly force. A warning. 

It works. Poe’s grin slide off his face. The joviality melts away. He keeps his voice low. “Look, man. It’s best if you leave her alone right now, okay?”

This does stop Ben, because Poe’s meaning takes a second to process. 

He knew exactly who Ben was headed towards— and was purposefully stalling.

“Why?” It’s more demand than question.

“It’s just for the best.”

“Okay,” Ben sighs, too fed up from two and half weeks of mounting failure to humor this guy anymore. “Get out of my way.”

“I can’t.”

Ben steps closer. “You can’t?”

Poe’s jaw flexes, struggling to answer. They both know he couldn’t stop him. 

In truth, Ben could just as easily kill him as fight him. One clean snap of the neck would be much faster, really. And it would be more than a little satisfying after the last couple of weeks. 

Rules are beginning to matter a lot less to Ben than they did a week ago.

Poe exhales. “I just— I’m just going to ask again, man. I know you guys have some weird friendship thing or whatever, but I don’t think you’re good for her, not right now. You seriously just need to leave her alone. You don’t know what’s going on, okay?”

“But you’re not going to tell me.”

Poe averts his eyes. “No. It’s… not for me to tell.”

“Then move.”

“No,” Poe shrugs, crossing his arms.

Ben considers him for a moment. He needs to end this fast and simple. 

He knows how it ends, because these things all end the same— with what a person is willing to lose. Or rather, who is willing to lose more. Who is willing to go the furthest.

And the answer is Ben. Ben is willing to lose more. There is no limit to how far he’ll go.

Poe only needs to understand that. 

Ben leans close to his ear. 

“I’m going to help you out, Poe, because you seem to need it. You have seriously misjudged me. I am not who you think I am. I will hurt you. Badly. In front of everyone. Right now. It’s what I’m good at, and you wouldn’t be able to stop me. I don’t care about any of these people or what they think— they’re nothing to me. You’re nothing to me. I’ve already seen into your mind, believe it or not, and it bored me. I’m out of patience, I’m out of time, and you have annoyed me deeply. I’m not angry yet. I suggest you step aside while you still can and leave me be tonight. I don’t want to ruin your party. But I will.”

Ben pulls back again. Poe blinks at him, first in disbelief. 

Then again, like he’s seeing him for the first time.

There it is. A flicker of true fear. Ben can always taste it.

For just a moment Poe still seems to consider his chances. But ultimately he steps back.

Ben passes him, leaving the room without another thought or glance. Only a couple of people jump out of his way, having witnessed some part of the conversation. That’s good. He’d rather not cause too much of a scene before he finds her. 

Except he can’t find her. 

Rey’s coat and purse have been neatly left on a chair in the mostly empty dining room. He tries calling her, but then notices the corner of her phone visible in the pocket of the abandoned coat. She doesn’t have it.

So he circles through the many rooms full of people on the first floor like an idiot, getting the inexplicable sense that he’s always just missed her. It feels like a bad dream. His thoughts are somewhat louder and looser and blurrier in his head from the shots, making the all-around nightmarish effect worse with its distortion. He hates it.

He gets caught in a few conversations along the way. He chooses to linger in a couple of them for a while, thinking that maybe if he stays in one place she’ll eventually come to him. But she doesn’t.

Ever so often he checks to see if her things are still there on that chair. Every time, they are.

After almost forty minutes of this confusion, Ben thinks to check the back yard. He finds only Hux there, standing and smoking a cigarette by himself next to a freezing-looking pool in the bluish twilight.

“Hux.”

“Ren.”

He stops next to the pool with him, looking around the slightly overgrown yard with his hands in his pockets. It’s cold out here. “Have you… um, have you seen Rey?”

Hux exhales a drag to the sky. “Oh. Am I allowed to say her name now?”

“Have you seen her?”

“Not since she came in. She hugged Rose. That was it.”

Ben sighs. Awesome.

“I’m doing great, by the way. Having a great time out here alone.”

He _hmphs_. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.” Hux shifts his weight, glumly watching one foot cross over the other. “I’m just… they’re all so fucking bubbly. I can’t keep up. Too much damn energy.”

“Rose, you mean.”

Hux shrugs.

“Maybe that’s why she likes you.”

He scoffs. “Because I can’t keep up with her?”

“Because you balance each other out.” 

Ben stares down at the surface of the pool. It’s so undisturbed it’s like glass; he can see both of their reflections in it. Parts are thinly iced over.

Hux makes a quiet noise of acknowledgment. “Have you checked upstairs?”

“It’s sectioned off. Everyone’s downstairs.”

Hux shrugs. “Well she’s friends with Poe, isn’t she? I’d guess she’s been here before. She’d probably feel comfortable going up there.”

Ben looks up. None of the lights in any of the windows are on, but he may be right.

“Yeah. Thanks,” he murmurs, already thinking. He turns to go. “Good luck.”

“Same.”

It’s easy to get upstairs. Nothing’s actually locked, only unlit and discreetly roped off. He takes the main staircase. Someone’s making a toast in the dining room. No one sees him.

Once up there, he’s faced with one main hallway stretching out to either side of him. He goes with his gut and follows the righthand one. It’s dimmer here, but he can still see. He listens carefully as he goes before he decides to start knocking on doors.

Then, at the very end, is a smaller door. Discreet. It doesn’t look like it leads to a proper room, but he senses a presence behind it— her presence, he thinks. He doesn’t soften his footsteps as he approaches so he doesn’t completely sneak up and scare her.

He stops right outside. “Rey?” 

Silence. He waits. Somehow he’s sure it’s her now.

Finally she responds. Her voice warbles. “Yeah?”

“It’s Ben.”

An embarrassed pause. “How’d you find me?”

“I looked.” He glances around. “Can I come in?”

The door pushes open from the inside. He steps back to make way.

Inside is a large linen closet, tall shelves left right and center. Rey is on the ground in a thin-strapped silver-sparkly jumpsuit, hugging her knees. 

“Yeah.”

He steps halfway inside. “Can I turn on the—”

“No!” She clears her throat. “No. Too bright.”

“…Okay. No light,” he agrees. “I’m going to sit down.”

He pauses, giving her the chance to object, but she doesn’t. He goes ahead and sits opposite her. There’s only just enough room. The shelves go high, but the floor area is shallow. He barely has enough room to extend his legs. Her shoes bump against his thigh— thick-soled boots with silver glitter painted on.

“Close the door.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, your arm is longer. Close the door.”

“But are you sure?”

“Yes, are you crazy? We’ll be found! Close the goddamn door!”

“Fine! Geez.” He reaches up for the handle and pulls until it softly clicks shut.

It’s nearly pitch black. The ambient light from the cracks in the door provides just enough for him to see her outline.

He waits in the silence.

Finally she sniffles. “I’m not talking first.”

“You’re the one hiding in a closet. I think that means you talk first.”

She laughs. Barely.

“What happened?” he asks, softer.

She takes a shaky breath. “Um. Well. My boyfriend’s in love with someone else.”

Ben genuinely doesn’t know how to react. “Oh.” 

He’s not sure what he expected all of this to be about, but it definitely wasn’t that. 

“It’s not his fault,” she says quickly. “He didn’t cheat on me. But I saw them together, last night, just sitting there, looking at each other, and… I don’t know. I just saw it. Finally.” She laughs. “I really should’ve seen it sooner. It was obvious.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not Finn’s fault,” she repeats, like she’s trying to defend him. 

“I didn’t say it was.”

“I— _I_ should’ve seen it. He said he didn’t think he could _tell_ me. I should’ve been— should’ve let— let him—”

“Rey.”

She’s trying not to cry now. Holding it in.

Ben awkwardly switches sides in the closet, fumbling in the dark to get next to her. He settles again, now shoulder to shoulder.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she exhales. “It’s complicated.”

The image of Finn with his arm around her, less than an hour ago, makes him bite his tongue against many things he would like to say. Things he would think would be obvious.

“It’s been a weird day. I thought I could at least come here and be normal for a while, but I guess not.”

“You don’t have to be normal.”

“Thanks, Ben,” she says, quiet.

Then, to his surprise, Rey tilts her head against his shoulder and keeps it there. 

He’s afraid to move, to ruin it. It’s so peaceful— peaceful in a way he’s not at all familiar with, but thinks he would like to learn to be.

He can’t bear to break the fragile silence. Their pocket of peace. Her entire world. 

Not in this moment. 

He can’t count all the times he could’ve used this— and how many times she could’ve used it, too, probably, alone on Jakku for all those years. Someone to just sit next to and share silence with, someone who knows.

There are some kinds of hurt that can’t be soothed with words, and some that words can’t even touch. But they still need something. They still need someone.

And it should’ve been them. All along, it should’ve been the two of them. Like this.

Needing something to blame, Ben will always believe it was cruel of the force to create them as one and then keep them apart. To make them need each other, then not let them see it for almost two decades. To allow them wholeness for only minutes before taking it away forever.

Before Rey, Ben’s loneliness used to feel like a dull ache under his sternum. It was a painfully normal sensation, one he learned to live with so well he sometimes forgot it was there.

But throughout the past year, Ben pieced together a new theory.

That the feeling he got so familiar with wasn’t just loneliness— it was Rey. The lack of her. Even before he knew she existed, he knew her empty space.

Because the ache changed after they met; it became sharper, more pointed. It was like hounds finally being given a scent, finally set off towards that one thing. It was ceaseless. Once he truly saw her on Starkiller Base, standing in that snow with his grandfather’s lightsaber, braver and more powerful than he could comprehend… after that, the ache was never dull again. 

It was brilliant and desperate and wild, and it belonged to her. It always belonged to her; it was only waiting to be claimed.

The physical strength of that feeling has lessened since coming to Earth where there’s no force, but it’s still there. He doesn’t know if it’s remnants of the force in his blood or if it’s just… human. All he knows is sitting here with her quiets the howling. The ceaselessness ceases. Everything in him finally calms.

He turns his head incrementally, barely skimming his lips across the top of her head. He hesitates there for a moment, then rests his cheek.

He listens to them breathe together for a long time, eventually closing his eyes in the already-dark closet. He had a dream like this once, he thinks. Before he met her. He dreamt of her presence, warm and nebulous and all in darkness, before the light ever came to reveal her face.

Suddenly there’s a hand tugging his arm.

He jolts his head up from hers. “Wha—?”

The hand quickly covers his mouth.

“Rey?” A voice calls outside in the hallway. A man’s. Her boyfriend. “I know you’re up here.” Shuffling. “…Somewhere. Maybe?”

Ben looks at her. His eyes are adjusted enough where he can see her pained expression in the dark. He pulls her hand off his mouth and lift his eyebrows. _What are you going to do?_

She shrugs dramatically, eyes wide, then puts a finger to her mouth. Footsteps come closer.

“That’s fine. You don’t have to come out. Just… come down soon, will you? I know this has all been really fucked up and I’m sorry, but I’ve had a thought and I just really need to talk to you.” Silence. “Right. Okay. Bye, I guess.”

They can hear his sigh. It’s a sad sigh. Dejected, really. Then he walks back to the staircase, the sound of his steps trailing away until they’re gone. 

She’s standing up before he can stop her.

“Rey, wait.”

“God, I’m such a horrible person,” she groans, stepping over him as she opens the door. “Come on, let’s go back down.”

“Wait, no, I need to talk to you—”

“Get in line,” she laughs without humor. “We can talk downstairs, kay? And we can get drunk at the same time! That should be fun, no?”

Ben stumbles after her, trying to think fast. He fails, instead tripping on the hallway rug and going down hard. He nearly smashes his face into the ground, only just catching himself at the last second. His elbows sting from impact, but he gets back up quick as he can and keeps going.

“ _Fuck_. Rey—!”

“I’m gonna talk to him,” she calls over her shoulder, unhearing and completely unaware. She’s already far ahead of him, trotting down the stairs. “Just for a minute, the we’ll get wasted, yeah? Wish me luck.”

He follows her down and through the small clumps of crowds, more than a few paces behind. She finds and meets up with Finn in the dining room— Finn, who’s sitting next to a serious-looking Poe. 

_Oh._ Poe? It’s surprise at first, but then not at all. It makes sense, actually. Even to Ben, who barely knows them. No wonder Poe was trying to hold him back earlier and be the good guy. Guilt, probably.

Ben backs out of the room before being seen by any of them.

Fine. He’ll stay right here in the kitchen. He can still see her from a certain angle. He can still keep tabs.

He looks around and finds a chair to wait in, vibrating with frustration. 

_Idiot. Moron. Dumbass._

Squeals and clapping come from a handful of people on his right. They’re surrounding a couple kissing in the doorway next to him. He could kill them all.

“Hey, you! Where’d Armie go?”

It’s the blonde one again, startling him by coming out of fucking nowhere. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Your grumpy ginger friend.”

“Oh. I don’t know. Sorry.” 

“Rose was looking for him,” Kaydel explains with a shrug, playing with the end of a braid. “Hey, what did you say to Poe earlier?”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Ben groans before he can stop, covering his face with a hand. 

Lucky for him, Kaydel reads it as embarrassment— not irritation.

“No! No, it’s all good! I think it’s cool. He can really be a dick sometimes. Thinks he’s invincible. I didn’t hear what you said, but the look on his face was _hilarious._ He could honestly probably use the—” She frowns. “Oh, are you looking for somebody?”

He’s checking that Rey’s still there. She is, rocking back and forth on her feet. Ben leans back.

“No. You were saying?”

“Just that I don’t blame you.”

“Thanks.” 

She sits down beside him and cocks her head. “He’s not the alpha male he thinks he is, you know?”

He manages a good-natured shrug. Kaydel isn’t horrible or anything— she’s nice, really— but Ben just _really_ doesn’t want to talk to her right now. 

Luckily she’s tipsy and doesn’t require a lot of feedback. Nodding, agreeing, and a few well-placed _“yeah?”_ s and _“really?”_ s and _“I didn’t know that”_ s go a long way. She talks in strings of tangents. He can go minutes and minutes without saying anything back, and he does.

“Mistletoe is so dumb.”

“It is,” he says. 

“I mean, it’s really just an excuse for people to do something they probably already wanted to do, you know? And flaunt it. It’s such a gimmick.”

“Yeah.”

“But I mean, it can be kinda cute, too. It depends on the people and the situation, I guess. What do you think?”

“I agree.”

“Yeah? You’re kind of under some right now, actually. In this doorway.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.” She leans, casually putting her chin on her fist. There’s a question in her eyes he doesn’t understand. 

Then a figure _whooshes_ by him. “Ben, let’s go.”

It’s Rey, purse and coat already over her arm. 

“What, now? Leave?” he stumbles through his surprise. 

“Yes.”

“Wait,” Kaydel says. “You’re leaving? But—”

“Back the fuck _off,_ Kaydel,” Rey snaps viciously, completely out of her constructed character. Her voice carries, drawing a decent amount of attention in the room. Kaydel looks stunned, unable to reply. _“Ben?”_

Although he’s shocked, she doesn’t have to say it a third time. Ben stands quickly, following her through the foyer crowd and out the front door.

“Are you good to drive?” she asks without bothering to look at him.

“Yeah. What’s going on?”

“We’re going to your place. I think I’d rather get wasted there— assuming you don’t mind.”

“No, yeah, I don’t,” he agrees, leading her down the block to where his car is parked. It’s freezing outside. Windy, too. It looks like a storm is coming in. Their breath is visible in the yellow light of the street lamps. Hers comes short and fast, matched with her brisk walking pace.

He doesn’t attempt to ask her what’s wrong, not for a while. He’s too wary of her tense energy. 

It starts raining about halfway there. They’re both so quiet that the sound of water hitting the car seems impossibly loud. He couldn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence even if he wanted to. He smashed it in too bad.

So he tries. “So, um. Is everything—?”

“I’m not talking about it until I have alcohol _in_ my hand.” There’s no room for argument in her tone.

He’s doesn’t complain. This is it, after all. This is everything he could’ve asked for. It’s the opening he needed, fallen straight into his lap.

Grim is ecstatic to see Rey when they get there, jumping up on her and whining with excitement. She doesn’t completely neglect him in her moody state _,_ scratching his head for a minute before then stalking to the kitchen counter, slamming her purse down, and huffing into her usual seat.

Ben goes to the liquor cabinet he’s had little use for until now and brings her a bottle from it. It’s Scotch— something Hux chose once when he came over, so hopefully it’s adequate.

Rey takes a long sip from the glass he pours her, then closes her eyes. “Thank you.”

“So…?” Ben tries.

She licks her lips, eyes still shut. “Everything is bullshit. Everyone sucks.”

“Oh,” Ben says somewhat sarcastically, like that’s supposed to explain everything.

“Yeah, ‘ _oh.’_ And it’s not like I don’t know it, alright? I just tend to pretend otherwise. But you already knew that. You just _love_ to call me out for pretending, don’t you?”

Her icy tone silences him. The aggression finally making its way to the surface only clues his into how bad this really must be. 

When she speaks again, her voice wavers. “I’m just so _sick_ of being nice, Ben. Of being the good guy in every fucking situation, no matter how fucked up or… wrong it is.” 

Her eyes open. They gleam slightly.

“Finn was under the impression that he would, you know, _be_ with Poe if we… ended things,” she explains. “And it was looking like that was what he truly wanted to do. Which I could’ve lived with. Because I care about him and want him to be happy. And I was ready. I was ready for that.”

She finishes her glass, then takes the bottle from his side of the counter to refill it. 

“But Poe,” she sighs, “cleared something up just now. He let us know that he was _not_ under that same impression— that just because he acknowledged the feelings between them didn’t mean he was going to commit to anything _._ And when Finn realized that, the heartbreak on his face…” She laughs darkly. “Well, it made him change his tune. He says he wants to stay together now.”

The last sentence _stings_ coming out of her mouth. It’s an angry hurt. He feels it.

“What did you tell him?”

She tilts her head back like she’s trying not to cry. “That I needed time to think about it.” 

Ben wants to take her hand, wants to tell her to forget him— to forget all of this. She doesn’t need it. She would be free of this pain if she knew the truth. _This isn’t important, Rey. You just don’t know it yet._

“I love him so much, but I hate him, you know? In the way I hate all of them. They all treat me like I’m not human— like I’m naturally… _more_ than them. Like I’m still sweet and little and harmless, but somehow my sacrifices mean less. Or like my feelings are just built stronger or something. Like I don’t mind being settled for. Or stepped on, or talked over, or ignored, or used. Like I'll just always be _good_ with that because I’m just so fucking _good._ ”

She takes another dramatically long sip. Ben wants to tell her to slow down, but that might not go well. He casually slides the bottle further away to at least make it harder to grab.

“And you know what? You’re right. I pretend. And then I pretend that I don’t pretend. But I do. I pretend and pretend and then at the end of the day, they don’t fucking know me. And they can’t care about someone they don’t know, can they? Not really. Even if they all loved me to death, it wouldn’t mean a fucking thing— and it doesn’t! I mean, look! I’m just an idea to them and they don’t even know it! When it comes down to it, I’m really just… I’m… I’m _nothing._ ”

Then she starts crying. Really crying. Head down on the counter, shoulders shaking crying. 

“You’re not nothing,” he says, a bit harsher than he means to. She can’t say that. It’s not true.

“I am, though. I surround myself with all these people…” She takes a sob-like inhale. “B-but then I’m still alone. I’m alone, and it’s my fault. It’s why things like th-this—” another hiccuped breath “—happen. Why people I love don’t understand how they even _h-hurt_ me.”

“Rey,” he beckons, focused now. This is it. “Look at me.”

“Nobody really loves me, Ben. Not the w-way I love them. They can’t.”

“That’s not true and I know it for a fact. Now please, look at me. I’m serious.”

She doesn’t acknowledge him, just cries.

“ _Rey—”_ He almost slaps the counter in frustration. “I can _help_ you.”

“No you can’t!” she snaps to his surprise, lifting her head. Her reddened eyes pierce straight through him. “I don’t want your weird psuedo-therapizing bullshit right now, okay? Just let me wallow! This has been one of the worst days of my entire fucking—”

It’s too much for him. “It’s not real!” he bursts. “None of this is real!”

It confuses her into silence, if nothing else.

“Or— it doesn’t have to be,” he adds. _Shit._ There are so many better ways he could’ve done this, but now he’s started and he can’t stop. “This world isn’t ours. This isn’t… this isn’t all there is, okay? This isn’t it.”

She frowns suspiciously, wiping her cheeks. “What? What does that even mean, ‘this world isn’t ours?’”

Ben roughly cards his hair back, thinking hard. “You and I— we belong somewhere else. A different world. Universe. Dimension. Whatever it is, I honestly don’t know, I just showed up on a beach two and a half weeks ago. But I came from there. I came for you.”

Rey is still staring at him blankly. Then she starts to shake her head. “Ben…”

“I know it sounds strange. I know. I’ve been trying to find the right way to tell you, but there is none. I don’t know the mechanics of it, but I was transported instantly so I think it’s a dimensional thing. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Everyone here is like a different reflection of everyone there. You, Hux, my dad, even all your friends from what I can gather. Earth is so different, though, and I’ve been trying to figure everything out while also talking to you and trying to seem normal so I didn’t draw the wrong kind of attention, but the whole reason—”

“Ben,” she says again, but so quietly and in such a way that she sounds almost heartbroken.

He looks up at her and he realizes— it’s pity. 

She thinks he’s crazy.

“No! No, really. Please. Please just listen to me. I know you must know something. It has to ring some kind of bell. The weird stuff in your head you told me about— you’ve had some kind of visions, haven’t you? Or dreams? Memories? Felt or seen things in the past two weeks you can’t explain? Anything?”

Rey’s face doesn’t change, but he can sense the hard shell of self-protectiveness forming around her.

“I know there’s something, and it’s because of this. It’s because there’s a place we belong, Rey, and it’s not here.” He pleads with his eyes, leaning across the counter. “I know you sense even a little bit of truth in what I’m saying. I know you do. So let me tell you about it. Let me explain what’s going on. It’s important. Please.”

There’s a hanging silence. She looks slightly… afraid. She’s trying to hide it and be brave, but it’s there. True fear. He knows because he can taste it.

He can always taste it.

His stomach sinks terribly.

“I’m sorry, Ben,” she says carefully. “But I don’t know what to… I think I should go home.”

She gets up and grabs her bag. 

“No,” he begs, intercepting her at the door. “Wait. Please.” 

Very quietly and without making eye contact, she says, “Let me go.”

“Just give me ten more minutes to explain, and I promise you I can—”

“If you don’t move,” she says at the same volume, trembling almost imperceptibly. “I will start screaming.” Then she adds, “Finn knows where I am.”

Ben is stunned speechless. 

She thinks he’s a danger to her. She thinks he’ll harm her somehow.

The hurt of that is like being shot in the gut. His hand actually goes to his stomach as he stumbles back, making way. 

He doesn’t consider stopping her or keeping her the way he’d once planned to at the library. He knows there’s no way he could really do it, not now. Looking back, he doubts that he really could’ve done it then. He’s not the same person he was before.

So Ben lets her open the door. And watches her disappear into the rain, head down.

* * *

Ben decides to try some of the Scotch he gave Rey to drink. It tastes bad, but he doesn’t give up until he feels the effects.

After that, he lies on the floor for at least an hour, just staring at the ceiling while some loud and useless Earth holoshow plays in the background.

There are two cracks in the living room’s ceiling. One is pretty average. One is shaped like a heart.

He figures his heart would be made of cracks, too, if he were to try to depict it visually like that. Or… no. No, it be charred and grey. Like coal that’s been all burnt up and dried out, ready to crumble to ash at the slightest touch. It would be nice if someone came along and got that part over with.

It’s raining outside even harder now than it was when she left. There’s a tree branch that keeps knocking against his window in the wind. The world is in chaos and he’s at the center, in the eye of the storm, all but dead.

His phone makes a noise.

> Armitage Hux
> 
> 12:17 AM
> 
> What happened tonight? Everyone’s saying you punched Poe Dameron and took Rey???

Ben Solo

12:17 AM

no. not what happened 

> Armitage Hux
> 
> 12:18 AM
> 
> Then what did happen?

Ben Solo

12:18 AM

doesn’t matter. she’s gone

> Armitage Hux
> 
> 12:18 AM
> 
> Oh god. How bad is this?

Ben Solo

12:18 AM

do you s till have a cat? orange one?

> Armitage Hux
> 
> 12:19 AM
> 
> I’ve never had a cat in my life.
> 
> Armitage Hux
> 
> 12:19 AM
> 
> Do I need to come over there?

Ben Solo

12:19 AM

no

Ben Solo

12:19 AM

but you should get one. made you happy

> Armitage Hux 
> 
> 12:20 AM
> 
> The fuck are you on about? How much did you drink? 
> 
> Armitage Hux 
> 
> 12:20 AM
> 
> Are you sure I shouldn’t come?

Ben Solo

12:20 AM

not that much

Ben Solo

12:20 AM

and yes. i’m sure. do not come here

Ben Solo

12:20 AM

get an orange one

> Armitage Hux
> 
> 12:20 AM
> 
> Jesus Christ. Drink some water and go to sleep, Ren. Don’t do anything stupid.
> 
> Armitage Hux
> 
> 12:21 AM
> 
> I’m still going grill you later.

Ben Solo

12:21 AM

fine

Ben does drink some water. He doesn’t go to sleep, though. And doing something stupid is not yet off the table.

Because there’s no point to anything. Ramifications are null. Doesn’t matter anymore.

He did everything he thought he could do to get to her, to save her, and it still failed. It blew up in his face so badly that he knows there’s no coming back. Not really. He won’t stop trying, of course, but deep down… deep down, Ben knows it’s over.

He still has time left on the clock, but what use is it? He spilled. She knows. To her, he’s an unstable, delusional stalker who’s obsessed with her. There’s nothing he can do to erase that. He can’t go back. She’s as good as gone to him.

She’s gone tonight. She’ll be gone tomorrow on that heinous trip. And as soon as he wakes up from this month-long nightmare, she’ll be gone forever. Because of him.

Now might be the most acceptable time to cry. But he doesn’t. He can’t. He doesn’t deserve it.

He gets up and sits in her spot— the one at the kitchen counter, facing the fridge— and tries to come to grips with what he’s done. He doesn’t allow self-pity. He doesn’t soften a thing. Ben merely sits where she sat and lets the full, unbearable weight of the truth be his punishment. 

He’s killed her. He is responsible. Ben lost the only worthy part of himself and now he will live with it.

He’s not sure what’s left now. Of him, of anything.

When you remove a sun from a system, the system doesn’t just go dark. Each planet instantly loses its grip, its orbit, its path. It becomes unglued. Every surface freezes over. All that remains is the crude matter, floating— matter that serves no purpose, holds no warmth, no life, and is held together by nothing.

Ben already feels held together by nothing. He hasn’t let himself think about the terrifying possibility of living in a world she’s not in since those handful of minutes back on Exegol. 

But he’s thinking about it now. And it’s unbearable. His stomach hurts just trying to wrap his head around it. It hurts so badly he can’t breathe.

He puts his head down where she did, noiselessly struggling for air. The TV went into sleep mode a while ago, so it’s quiet inside now. The wind howls. The rain pours. He regains his breath with time; the sounds eventually start to lull him half asleep. The branch outside knocks against his window louder than ever.

It knocks more.

Then it pounds.

Ben sits up.

That’s the door. The pounding is at his door.

He starts towards it, light-headed at first, thinking how he’s _not_ letting Hux in. He already told him not to come, so that’s on him. He’ll just have to turn around.

But when he opens the door, it’s not Hux standing on the front step. 

It’s Rey.

She’s _drenched_ from the rain, in the most literal sense of the word. Her clothes are sodden, soaking wet, dripping. Her hair is plastered to the sides of her face. She’s scarily pale.

Ben’s shock at seeing her is immediately overridden by concern. 

“ _Rey—?_ Holy shit, come inside!” 

“No.” Her teeth chatter even through the one little word.

“No? Are you kidding?” he sputters. “Get in here before you—”

“No! Shut up!” she cuts him off, hard and decisive. “Shut _up_. You don’t say _anything_ , okay? You either nod or shake your head for this. No words. At all. Understand?”

_Uh…_ Ben, mostly out of confusion, nods obediently.

Rey sees this and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. Gathering courage. Water droplets run down her face.

“Okay. Yes or no,” she says, no longer yelling. Her words are calm and deliberate now, though an unmistakable tension still wavers beneath them. “Did you used to have a scar?”

Something inside him goes still. Her eyes open again, pinning him in place with the weight of their expectation. 

He nods once. Carefully. 

Because this is a test.

She lifts her chin slightly, playing unafraid. But she trembles. “Point to it. Show me where it was exactly.”

So, slowly, Ben raises a hand to his right brow. 

With two light fingers, he cuts down the front of it, landing on his cheek just under his eye. From his eye he draws the line of the scar down across the rest of his face, matching all the slight bends and curves as best he can from memory. He rounds it all the way under his jaw, drags it down his neck, and stops at the collar of his shirt.

It’s more or less an exact trace of where she once wounded him— the same wound she also healed. He lowers his hand and waits.

Rey swallows, nodding and blinking rapidly. “Right. Okay.”

Ben raises his eyebrows in question, not sure if that means he’s allowed to talk now.

She blinks even more, like trying to clear a heavy daze. “This is…” She loses the word in a breath, raising a hand to her chest. She tries again. “This… This is…”

Then she sways slightly, eyes glossing over. 

He breaks his silence. “Rey?”

She drops. 

Ben lurches forward, catching her just before her head hits the corner of the metal doorframe. She’s dead weight. He has to work to adjust his grip and get an arm under her legs before he can lift and carry her inside. 

He manages to close the door behind them as he goes, as well as lock both locks behind him for no reason other than it makes him feel better— like he’s protecting her somehow, even though the thing that has hurt her is literally the weather. Or maybe him. 

He’s not quite sure what to do next. She’s soaking wet, unconscious, and freezing cold. Her clothes must make up half the weight he’s holding right now; he’s surprised none of the fabric is actually frozen. The temperature of her skin and the bluish color of her lips are what’s scaring him most of all. 

He so badly doesn’t want to believe she was out there this whole time… but he has a sinking feeling she was. It’s been almost three hours. 

Ben feels sick.

He takes her to the bathroom. There, he sets her down on the black-tiled floor, starts up the tub, and awkwardly starts tugging off her waterlogged coat. It’s more difficult than it looks. He does her boots next, unlacing those and pulling them off. Her bright pink socks, too. All he leaves is the sparkly jumpsuit.

While he’s waiting for the water to warm up, he checks the pulse at her neck. It’s there, of course. He just needed to feel it for himself.

“Why did you do that?” Ben murmurs, holding her cold cheeks between his palms. He’s angry on some level, under all the layers of worry. Her lips ares still blue despite the room having heated up with steam. “Why would you do that?”

He adjusts the water so it’s warm, not hot, before carefully picking her up again and settling her in the tub. Then, when he thinks he’s ready, he pulls the little lever, switching the water flow from the faucet to the shower head.

Warm water rains down. Ben settles on the ground beside the tub, waiting. Nothing happens at first, not for a good ten seconds. Then she stirs a little. 

Her eyes fly open with a gasp.

Ben watches her piece together the situation for herself.

She bolts upright, sputtering shower water from her lips. “Fucking— what— what are you doing?”

“You passed out,” he explains. 

Rey shields her eyes, squinting at him. “So you put me in a _bath?_ ”

“You were freezing. I improvised.”

Rey catches her breath, looking around a bit and acclimating to her surroundings. She relaxes slightly. 

“Does feel nice,” she finally grants in a mumble. “Still really fucking cold though.”

“Yeah. I know. I don’t know what you think you were doing. Just give it a minute.”

The look she gives him is somewhere between reproachful and embarrassed. She starts gathering little pools of falling water in her hands and splashing her face. It returns some of her color, re-pinkening her cheeks. She keeps sighing and shivering, sighing and shivering. 

“You can take a real shower or bath if you want,” Ben says. “It would help. I know you’d probably take one anyway when you get home, but you should get all the way warm before you go. You’re lucky you didn’t get frostbite or something. I haven’t ruled out hypothermia yet.”

Rey avoids eye contact and keeps splashing. Ben takes that as a no on the shower/bath offer.

“Well. Let me know if you change your mind.”

Rey stops. Cautiously, she moves her eyes to him again. She’s thinking through something— something Ben thinks he shouldn’t interrupt. After another moment of apparent unsureness, she scoots closer to him and leans forward. Her hand lifts a little, hesitating in the air. 

“Can… can I…?”

Ben can’t breathe very well all of a sudden, but he nods once, otherwise staying very still. 

With a featherlight finger, Rey reaches out and softly traces a wet line down the old path of Ben’s scar, just the way he did. 

His eyes close automatically as she traipses from his brow to his cheek. Under the dark of his eyelids, he feels her touch tenfold. He has to suppress a shiver when she brushes under his jaw and down his neck. She keeps going even after that, stopping only once she gets to the actual, exact point it used to stop— all the way down to his chest, five or so inches below his collarbone. 

Even he didn’t drag it down that far when he showed her. But she knew.

He opens his eyes— slowly, hopefully. She’s looking at his face like it’s some dark painting she doesn’t know how to interpret. A little disturbed, but fascinated.

Her voice is quiet. “…Another dimension?”

Indescribable relief and excitement shoots through Ben. He pushes it down, though, wanting to be calm and reassuring.

“Yes,” he says, matching her soft volume. “Or something like that.”

“And… you’re from the other one?”

“Yes.” 

“But I’m not, right? Or am I— and that’s why I see stuff?”

_Oh god._ He was right. She’s seen things. What and how much, he doesn’t know, but that makes him nervous. 

“I don’t know, to be completely honest. But I think both. The fact that you’re seeing things makes me think that the distinction isn’t as simple as here and there. That there isn’t really a clear division between the two.”

She blinks at him. “Oh.”

There’s a fuller and more complicated theory he’s working on, but she doesn’t need to hear that right now. It’s too much. She needs something to grasp.

He backs up. “But I do think my being here is what’s making things… bleed together for you.”

“Glitch,” she murmurs to herself.

“Yeah. Glitch. Sure.”

“But why?” she frowns. "Why is this happening to me, in particular, if everyone here exists both places? Are the others getting this, too?”

Ben hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “No. It makes sense it’s only you. I came here for you.”

“Why?” Then, softer, “Who… who are you?”

His throat tightens. “Still Ben.”

“But this means you’ve been acting this whole time, haven’t you? Lying?”

Ben looks away, swallowing. “In general, yes. Not all the time, though. Not about everything.” There’s no point in denying it. “I had to before now. I’m sorry.”

She just shakes her head, confused. “Well… why, then? Why is this happening? Why are you here?”

A loaded question if there ever was one. He considers her, stomach twisting.

She’s not shivering like before. She seems to be leaning away from the shower spray, too. He uses that as an opportunity to stall, reaching to turn the water off and taking his time with it. 

Inside, he desperately tries to think of how a person is supposed to explain to another that they’re actually the most important person in their world— and that they’re dead _._

“You can tell me everything. I want to know,” she adds tentatively, noticing his hesitation. “Really. It’s okay.”

Her words have the opposite of their intended effect. It only dawns on Ben just how _catastrophically_ bad of an idea that is.

“Actually, Rey… I don’t think I should tell you everything at once.”

Her frown is predictable. “What? Why not?”

“It would be better in doses. There’s a lot. I don’t want you to overwhelm you.” _Don’t want to lose you._

“Seriously? That’s not fair. It has to do with me, right? You have to tell me.”

“I know. And I will. I just think it’s best this way.”

She scoffs, frustrated. “I’m not some fragile little girl, Ben. I can take it.”

He smiles. “I don’t think you’re fragile or little.”

“Then what makes you think I’ll be ‘overwhelmed?’”

He looks at her. Then around the tub. Then her again. “What do you think?”

Rey crosses her arms, petulant. But her deadly scowl slowly works itself away as she chews the inside of her cheek, thinking.

“Fine. You’ve got a point. In my defense, it was a _large_ piece of information. Debatably the largest. Just— just as long as you tell me, okay?”

“I will,” he promises.

She scans his face like she’s looking for a lie. Then, unexpectedly, “Can I take you up on that shower?”

It takes Ben a second to catch up to the sudden drop of subject. 

“Oh— sure. Yeah, of course.” He stands up, taking the cue and backing out of the room to give her privacy. “Towels are over there. I’ll go see if I can find something of mine that’ll fit. I’m not letting you go home in wet clothes.”

“Wait. Ben.”

He turns in the doorway. “Yeah?”

She’s a strange sight. Fully dressed and soaking wet, hanging over the side of his bathtub, blinking at him with her doe eyes. She’s shivering again, though. Not a good sign.

“You know that trip I was supposed to go on? The one to the cabin?”

He nods— _yeah._ He knows the one. 

“Well I, um. I called and cancelled on it. While I was out there, I mean. Didn’t exactly feel like going on a vacation with Finn and Poe right now, you know?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says calmly, understandingly. Inside, though, a staggering rush of relief absolutely _floods_ through him. 

“They leave tomorrow morning. Do you… do you think maybe I could stay here tonight?” 

Ben has difficulty processing the question— maybe because he’s still stuck on the first part about the trip. Rey misinterprets his dumbass silence as genuine deliberation and anxiously hurries to explain herself. 

“Just for tonight, of course— I’ll feel better about going back to the apartment once Finn’s gone. Everything’s so weird there, you know, but now _this_ thing is even weirder— insane, really— and everything’s been so confusing and fucked up today and to be honest I’m kind of freaking out a little bit, and I guess I just don’t what to do or know where to—”

“No!” he interrupts like an idiot. 

“No?”

“No— no, I mean _yes._ Yes, of course. You can stay here. You can stay here as long as you want.”

Her eyes soften with a sad sort of guilt; it’s heartbreaking. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I’d be happy if you stayed,” he urges. “Stay. Stay however long you want.”

After another moment of just staring at him like that, Rey’s gaze drops to the floor. Maybe hiding tears, he thinks. She’s had one seriously rough day, he’ll give her that. Ben crosses back to the tub and sits on his heels, right in front of her. It gets her to look him in the eye. Barely.

“I mean it. Stay here.”

She looks so nervous and confused at the kindness that it kills him. 

He just wants to take care of her. He’d take care of her forever if she let him. She must feel that on some level, deep down. She has to know, in some buried corner of her mind. 

“It’s just… I really don’t like to be alone, you know?” she whispers apologetically. “I don’t do well with it anymore. Like, I _really_ don’t do well with it. It’s embarrassing. And now that they’re all gonna be gone and literally everyone else I know is going home, I’m suddenly gonna be this whole break.”

“No. No you won’t. You’ll stay with me.” He’s being rather aggressive now, but he doesn’t care.

Rey doesn’t seem put off. Only hesitantly relieved. She repeats, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. You’re staying here,” he decides. Final. Resolute. No more questions. "Now turn the water back on, you’re shaking again. I’ll come back with clothes.”

She takes a long shower, as she should. When she comes back out, the bits of her skin not hidden by his baggy clothes are all pink from the hot water. She smells like his shampoo.

“Did you cook something?” she asks, incredulous. 

He winces, embarrassed. “No. Well, yes. Kind of. I tried to make you a grilled cheese, but I burned it really bad.”

She grins. “You didn’t throw it away, did you?”

“No, but—”

“Then give it to me. I’m not picky.”

She meant that, apparently. She eats the whole thing happily. Not one complaint. They sit on the carpet right next to the fire, which Ben turns to full blast for her. She’s already wearing three layers of shirts and sweaters and two heavy blankets, but there’s still cold in her bones, she says. Being next to the fire apparently helps even though it doesn’t actually provide a ton of heat. It’s psychosomatic.

“Were you out there the whole time?” Ben asks her when she’s almost done. 

He’s in sweats and a thermal shirt now, much like her— except his, of course, actually fit. Grim is lying next to him, sadly watching Rey eat food he can’t have.

“Yeah.”

“Why? What were you even doing?”

“I was freaking out,” she says like _duh_.

“You couldn’t have freaked out inside somewhere?”

“I was out of it, okay? My perception of reality had just been ripped open. It was like all this stuff I’d been suppressing and minimizing was pouring out and blowing up. My brain was still fighting it, too. Trying to be rational. Felt like war in my head. I think I actually kind of blacked out for a while. So I didn’t even really feel the cold, to be honest. Didn’t matter to me. Just felt kinda unreal.”

Ben, again, feels sick at this. He was drinking and feeling sorry for himself in his cozy house the entire time this was happening. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you go out like that alone.”

“I would’ve physically fought you if you’d tried to follow me, Ben. Honestly, I think I needed to break a little. It was the only way I could… reset, if that makes sense. Accept new information. I’m stubborn.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

He changes the subject. “We can go to your place tomorrow so you can pick up any stuff you need, if you want.”

“Yeah. That sounds good.” She pulls her blankets tighter around her. “Hey, so… will you tell me now? What’s going on?”

Ben, expecting this, nods. “It’s not really going to make sense to you, though.” 

“Why?”

“There’s lot of backstory that goes into it, I guess. History. Politics. And magic, too, sort of. Where I’m from is very different from Earth.”

“Really? How?”

He smiles. This part should be fun, at least.

“Well… for one, we don’t have actually an Earth. Not to my knowledge, at least. We have a galaxy full of other planets, though. And a ton of them have life— too many to count. There are all different kinds of intelligent species, so the people there aren’t just all human like they are here. And they all coexist. Not necessarily peacefully, but still. And travel between all the planets is totally normal. Space travel. Some people actually just live in space, as well. The way you guys have cars is sort of the way we have starships. Well, not really. Nevermind. It’s not a perfect metaphor.”

He stops to judge her reaction, but Rey simply seems unable to compute. Her expression hasn’t really changed, and her voice is just flat. “You’re kidding.”

“This is why I suggested small doses,” Ben grins, laying back on his elbows. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

Rey shakes her head. “I mean… I had a few dreams, I guess. That I was in space.”

“Makes sense.” Then, with a carefully light voice, he asks, “…What else did you dream?”

“Lots of things.”

“Give me an example.”

Rey gives him such a specific, unreadable look that it freezes him. It’s like she’s searching him for something, probing much deeper than he would like. Ben tries not to let his face betray his anxiety.

“… A desert,” she answers finally. Ben relaxes. “Except it had all these big machines left everywhere in the sand. Like warships.”

He nods. “Jakku. It’s a planet.”

“Jakku,” she repeats quietly. “So I’ve been there? And I’m… remembering it? I’m remembering all these things?”

“I don’t know about all of them,” Ben says honestly. “But with Jakku, I’d say yes. You lived there.”

“Seriously? I did?” 

He nods again, holding back many more things he could say. Things that would definitely overwhelm her. He needs to be careful.

“And you know that because you know me?” she asks. “Over there?”

“Yes.”

Rey licks her lips and glances down at her hands, fidgeting casually. “So then… we’re friends there, too?”

She watches him through her lashes with a trusting sort of curiosity. Her shoulders are drooped adorably under the weight of his blankets. The damp hair around her face is starting to dry and spiral. 

And Ben can’t stop himself. It happens too fast. 

He lies.

“Yes.”

She nods, absorbing it alongside all the other information, seeming to believe him.

“And… you said you were here for me,” she says more quietly, asking the question itself with her eyes.

Ben sits up slowly. He can feel his pulse throughout his entire body.

“I did.” He takes a final breath. “I came to bring you back.”

Rey doesn’t really react. She just asks to confirm, “Back with you?”

He nods. 

“Permanently?” she asks to confirm again.

He nods again. “It’s your decision,” he thinks to add. “I can’t take you or anything. I don’t know what exactly controls it, I just know that you have to be the one to decide. I’m only here to… you know.”

“Make me decide,” she fills in neutrally. 

“Yes.” She’s either handling this quite well or it isn’t sinking in.

“Huh.” She turns to the fire, watching it thoughtfully. “But don’t you already have a Rey?”

Ben’s gut clenches. “Well… like I said before, I don’t think the lines are that clear. I don’t think you’re two separate entities.”

“How could we not be? I’m here, she’s there.”

“No. Okay.” Ben scoots closer on the carpet. “I’ve been thinking about this, and I have a theory— a pretty strong one, using what I know so far from both places.”

“And?”

“And I think there’s one you, and there’s one me. Each of us is like… I don’t know, a die.” He pinches two imaginary dice between his fingers, showing her. “The whole thing is us. And we’re both on one side right now— Earth. Which is the only side you’ve ever seen. But _you_ —”He shakes one of the invisible dice, indicating the entire object. “Are the same thing everywhere. All sides are you, all at once. This one, and this one, and this one. Simultaneously. They all have the same center, the same… soul. It’s why you can remember things from the other side; it’s shared information. You aren’t actually separate from any side— you belong to each equally. The choice is whether to flip.”

“Okay…” Rey shrugs, doing her best, “But that still leave sides. Two different sides. Two different Reys. Or— six, I guess, in the dice metaphor. Whatever.” 

“But not really. These worlds we’re talking about… I don’t think you can think of them as physical locations. You can’t apply the same rules of space or time to them. They exist at once— or maybe not at all, I don’t know. But it’s not linear. It’s not like they live next to each other, but stacked. Meshed. Like this world lives not _with_ the other worlds, but on top of and _between_ —”

He stops.

_Worlds,_ he was going to say. It’s a world between other worlds.

The concept, or maybe even the phrasing, sparks a memory— something from one of Luke’s old Jedi texts. Chain Worlds Theorem. 

There was supposedly a place in the force outside of space and time. In that place, there were doors that wove through and around the usual confines of the universe, doors that lead to different times and places. All existing simultaneously.

“Hey.” Rey pokes his knee. “You okay?”

It can’t be. From the little he once learned of that place— which he had half-believed was mythical at the time— it had to do random gods… it had a special entrance… the doors dealt with moving between place and time in their galaxy.… not dimensions. Not like this.

This couldn’t be part of any chain. There isn’t even the force here.

But if there were ever a third axis between space and time, it would be dimension, wouldn’t it? Time, place, dimension. The unseen axis.

“Ben, you’re freaking me out.”

“Sorry.” He looks back to her, trying to focus. “Just, uh. The sides aren’t really places. I don’t believe any of it’s truly separate, not the way you’re thinking.”

She sighs in frustration. “Okay. Fine. Let me rephrase— why do you want me to _go_ there?”

Ben braces himself. “Because… where I come from, you’re lost.”

“Lost?” she frowns, shrugging her blankets closer.

He doesn’t _want_ to lie, but he can’t bear the alternative right now. And he has to tell her something. “Lost. Spiritually. Cosmically. You were fighting—”

_“Fighting?”_

“Yes. We were in a war. I’ll explain later. Doses, remember? But what happened was you were using your power to—”

_“Power?”_

He drops his hands. “Rey, I swear to god.”

She covers her mouth, stifling a strange laugh. “Sorry.”

“There’s something called the force. It’s a cosmic thing. And you had it. You won the fight, but you got lost in the process… in the force. That’s why I’m here. I was given an opportunity to bring you back to yourself. I didn’t understand it, but I took it.”

“Wait.” The remainder of her smile has vanished now. “The whole reason you came to Earth, the whole reason you’re here doing this, is… to save me?”

Ben nods.

“Oh.” Her eyes flit away, trying to process. Powers, wars, lostness. The revelation that Ben, this random guy she met a couple weeks ago, literally travelled through worlds for her. “That’s… heavy.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “It is.”

She’d been doing well with the informational onslaught thus far, but seems to have finally hit a wall. She’s staring at the ground, unblinking. Confused, stuck, or just overwhelmed.

Ben doesn’t blame her. She didn’t ask for any of this. He just showed up in her life one day like a fucking sledgehammer— a sledgehammer whose depth of feelings for her she must be piecing together now, one way or another. Probably with no small degree of discomfort. 

He can’t help that part. What else is he supposed to do? Act casual about this? Act like he wouldn’t do anything to bring her back? She’s going to see it. She’s going to know he feels, with or without him putting it in exact words. The most he can do for her is not linger on it.

Now that he’s sufficiently made her uncomfortable for tonight, he should leave her alone for a while. It’s almost three in the morning, anyways. 

He stands. “You’re probably tired. I have a room you can use.”

He holds out his hand. Rey just stares at it, disoriented. After a moment, he drops it.

“Do me a favor.”

Something in his voice draws her attention this time. She looks up.

“If you leave, tell me first. I won’t stop you. It would just save me a lot of… Just tell me.” Then, because he should, he adds a terse, “Please."

Her eyebrows draw together, disbelieving. “Ben, I wouldn’t leave.” She pushes herself to her feet, shedding the blankets as she goes. “And I certainly wouldn’t leave without saying anything. I know I ran away earlier, but that was a whole different thing.”

She steps forward like she’s going to touch him but Ben steps back. He’s not sure why.

“So you agree?”

“Yes,” she says, almost like she’s hurt by the question. He shrugs it off.

“Thank you.” He turns and starts towards her bedroom, expecting her to follow. 

The room, while plenty comfortable, is pretty plain. It’s more or less bare apart from basic furniture. Its simple white and grey color scheme is standard, if not a little cold feeling.

After he turns on the light, he hangs back in the doorway and lets Rey walk in past him. She looks around, slowly making her way to the bed. 

Facing him, she sits on the edge, shoulders drawn in protectively. She looks very small in the largely empty room. “Thanks again. For letting me stay.”

He nods. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Wait.”

He pauses.

“I know we’re doing doses or whatever, but there’s one thing.” Her eyes nervously skip around the room— around the corners, to the window, in the dark closet. “You said I was fighting someone. Right? There was a war?”

He nods.

“I just need to know.” Her voice gets quiet— like she’s scared to say it too loud. “Was it the man with the red sword?”

Ben’s stomach drops. It _slams_ down, jolting every cell in his body. He feels the blood leave his face, holding the doorframe for support. 

“Wh— who?”

“I don’t know. He wears a mask all the time,” she describes, gesturing to her face to demonstrate. “And he has this sword— it looks like it’s made of light or fire or something. It’s red. Bright red. Wears all black.”

His mouth is dry. The words feel impossible to form. “And you’ve seen this man?”

“Yeah. A lot in my dreams. During the day, too, sometimes. Scares the shit out of me.” She shivers. “He’s real, right? Do you know who I’m talking about?”

“Yes,” he admits. “I know who you’re talking about.”

“Was it him? Was he the one I fought?”

“No,” he says quietly.

She doesn’t seem comforted by this. The opposite, really. She puts her arms around herself, eyes falling to the carpet. “Oh.”

It absolutely wrenches his heart. She’s terrified. Of _him._ It hurts even worse because he know he completely deserves it. He takes half a step inside, fighting between the urge to comfort her and to never let himself touch her again. 

He finds his voice. “You don’t need to worry about him, Rey.”

She merely flicks her eyes up, unconvinced.

“I promise. He can’t hurt you. Not here, not there— he won’t.” He grabs for the door handle, readying to leave. “So get some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow.”

“But how can you say that?” she says miserably, refusing to let it go. “How do you even know?”

Her eyes are almost defiant as she waits for her answer. Like she doesn’t believe anything he could say could convince her. Like she knows he can’t protect her from the monster and would rather he was just honest about it.

So when Ben answers, he gives her honest.

“Because he’s dead.” 

He watches it sink in for the briefest moment. 

Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I Wouldn't Ask" by Clairo [(x)](https://youtu.be/1C9bYMyxOU0) & "Take Care" by Beach House [(x)](https://youtu.be/Jdve08cG3pE) [[playlist]](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0NknorQBSQgRLOBKQZhpJ5?si=3UGA4zMcSDe_-4KpCwb_lA)  
> these 2 songs are holding hands at the edge of the universe while i watch, crying
> 
> hello hello, just so i don't fuck with anyone's expectations, i wanted to mention that the WBW thing isn’t going to play a significant role going forward. i'm not super interested in the mechanics of it all, tbh i just saw the opportunity to imply that earth is accessible from the galaxy far far away took it because i am god of this tiny world and it pleases me
> 
> anyways thanks for reading. i appreciate you guys a lot.
> 
> twitter @wickedtempered 
> 
> ♥


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